


Jack Thompson is Dead*

by keysburg



Series: Dead spies tell no lies [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: 0-8-4s, Background Peggysous, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Cold War, Espionage, F/M, Fake Character Death, Full Blown Spykink, Historical References, Hydra (Marvel), Investigations, Moral Dilemmas, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t a Hollywood ending for Jack.  The SSR team fakes his death to sort out the M. Carter business.  Meanwhile, dead men have their uses.  Alone in a strange town, Jack must navigate a deep spy game where he can’t trust anyone--maybe not even himself.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the shooting that did it. It was painful and messy and the recovery was exasperating but at the end of the whole mess, Jack Thompson was dead. 

He had never felt more free.

It was supposed to be temporary, and it wasn’t his idea. Sousa thought that reporting Jack’s death would allow him time to recover--without them having to waste the SSR budget on an expensive protection detail. It would provide the time and extra resources for the SSR to investigate, eliminate the threat and not just attempt to guard him. That Danny-boy thought like an administrator instead of a spy was not surprising. 

“After all, Jack, when have you passed up the opportunity to tell a good lie?” Sousa wasn’t even trying to get his goat, but that stung. Even if he deserved it. Peggy met Jack’s eyes, and there was something soft there he hadn’t often seen. It was probably because he was lying in a hospital bed. 

“If they’re after Jack, we might be missing a perfectly good opportunity to use him as bait,” Peggy said. “Our leads are rather thin as it is.” Jack started to laugh at that, but it quickly turned into wracking coughs that hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Sousa passed him a glass of water and Jack took small sips, wincing.

“Whoever did me, did a bad job of it,” he said once he settled. “They had time to check and make sure I was dead, and they didn’t.”

“You can’t know that,” Peggy said. “You don’t even remember being shot. Maybe they were just in a hurry.”

“They used a silencer,” Jack said. “Witnesses confirmed as much. It would have taken no time at all to put a bullet in my brain on the way out. This wasn’t about me.” It was insulting, really. He always knew their work was dangerous, but he expected he’d be doing something to earn his bullet. Instead he had just been at the wrong place, holding the wrong file.

“I hope you’re not suggesting we forgo protection altogether, just because you have a feeling.” 

“Aw, Sousa, I didn’t know you cared. No. If I get a vote in this, I’d rather be dead than bait. Sometimes the sloppy ones come back to clean up their messes--or send someone else. It also provides us with the flexibility to resurrect me later, if the trail runs cold. Hopefully just not until I’m back on my feet.” 

“You will be, before you know it,” Peggy promised. 

So they declared him dead, and he spent a lot of time lying around. He wanted to complain, but the surgeons had repaired the damage and he managed to dodge infection. Everytime he felt a little bit sorry for himself, there was Sousa, limping in with a case status report. Given enough time, Jack would be whole in a way the other man never would be.

Even dead he was luckier than he deserved to be. 

Not that everything went smoothly--finding his shooter only led them into a deeper mess. Untangling the conspiracy hinted at by that damn M. Carter file wasn’t something that could be done in days or weeks. It turned out it was a family matter--and there’s nothing more complicated than family. Jack would know. 

The investigation crept along slowly enough that he started to get restless. As soon as he felt up to it, Jack started pestering Sousa and Carter for something productive to do. They ignored him for as long as possible, but just because they had a new problem, it didn’t mean the old ones went away. The SSR still had other cases, and not even Carter could be everywhere at once. 

While he waited, he got himself back into fighting shape. Sousa had pulled some strings and found him a private physical therapist. As soon as the pain in his chest died to a dull roar, Jack started hitting the weights. It helped that kind of thing was big out here; if he was stuck in California he might as well take advantage. In Venice, he managed to blend in for a bit with the aspiring body-builder types. He found leads on a couple boxing gyms he could drift in and out of without drawing much attention. 

He always appreciated an excuse to hit something. 

There were lots of things to appreciate about his new life. No one has expectations of a dead man. They don’t have to call home or suffer though surprise parental visits. There were no whiny agents to wrangle, no boss to please. There were lots of pretty girls in Hollywood, and most of them more worried about getting a big break than a husband. Almost everything was better.

Except for the nightmares. They were worse when he didn’t have something to occupy his mind, and now his thoughts were mostly idle. There was still blood in the firelight, with the new addition that he was often the one bleeding. In one particularly disturbing version, he turned over the body of a dead Jap only to see his own face. 

He _almost_ asked Sousa if he’d experienced something similar--and how long it had lasted. Jack found himself hesitating when he had an opening, unsure how to say it without giving Sousa the impression that he was mocking him. Or worse, make it seem like he was cracking up. 

* * *

The SSR wasn’t an agency to let the dead rest easily. Eventually Peggy came looking for him.

It was a relief to see her at his safe house with a firearm, a bag of cash, two file folders, and a new I.D. for a John Paxson. Her grim face and sober mission rundown did nothing to curtail his excitement, although getting shipped out to New Mexico was less than ideal. 

“It’s an entirely black operation, Jack,” Peggy said. “You’ll be on your own.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he assured her. His judgement hadn’t been the best in the past, but he squelched the rising doubt. “I thought you and the boys cleared Hydra out back during the war. This feels a lot like you sending me into danger to clean up _your_ mess.” Just like he had been shot over _her_ family business. 

“Yes, we thought we took the last known base in Austria, ‘45. They knew we were on our way; they had almost everything in boxes and were loading trucks when we arrived. We never found out if they were just running or headed somewhere specific. There could be another base we didn’t find, or there might just be a rat or two that escaped the sinking ship.

“It’s also possible that this is mere Soviet disinformation, concocted to distract our resources. We need to know, one way or the other. I’d rather go and find out which for myself, but I’m hardly anonymous. My work with the Commandos was pretty well known by Hydra before the end. Please tell me if you don’t think you’re up for it--but I thought you were eager to work again?”

Like hell he’d say he wasn’t up for it. Jack just nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“Here’s a one-time pad. That’s for reports only--there’s an address there for innocent postcards. They will be forwarded to me.”

“You’re going to be my handler on this? Why not Sousa?”

“Plausible deniability.” He gave her a flat look, and she sighed before continuing. “It’s a sticky situation. The intelligence source on this is so deep, not even we know the details. This was passed to me as a professional courtesy; this mission isn’t officially sanctioned. Vernon Masters’ disappearance is further complicating things. The Department of War has been on high alert for internal corruption, traitorous or illicit activity. It is already hampering our ability to work with the international branches of the SSR. The M. Carter file and the family business just made it worse. Daniel’s under a lot of scrutiny, and a black box mission like this would look bad. It could be used against him.”

“Oh and here I thought you were just being overprotective of your new boyfriend,” Jack said. “You knew I’d figure it out, right?” It had been obvious from Daniel’s case updates that they had more going on than work--a lot more.

“I thought you didn’t care who I climbed into bed with,” Peggy said, her eyes daring him to comment on her implication. It was sufficient confirmation for Jack. “Let’s stick to business.”

“I get it, Carter. Looking for an enemy agent can mean acting a lot like one yourself. Meanwhile, you’re just an agent, and not a chief.” Jack concluded. 

“Yes. Daniel knows what’s happening, of course, but we can’t involve him until you get something solid.”

“Good thing I’m dead, I guess,” Jack smiled. Peggy didn’t.

“You don’t have to do this, Jack. You will be operating alone, for all intents and purposes. It’s not the same as working with the full weight of the SSR behind you.”

“It’s probably better than when half the men behind you are traitors. At least I know I can count on myself.” _Most of the time._

“You can count on us, too, Jack. The SSR might not be officially behind this, but we’re here if you need us.” There was nothing soft in her demeanor now, only something she wasn’t saying. 

“Dead men don’t need help,” he said. “I’ll find your Hydra agent.”


	2. Chapter 2

He ended up flying to New York in Stark’s plane to keep his trail clean, since Jack was supposed to be dead and not flying commercial. The flight and the following night in Stark’s mansion in New York gave him plenty of time to study the files. Jack could get used to Howard--or at least his accommodations--if he didn’t have to listen to him babble about inventions and technological advancement. Jack preferred the stories about the dames. At least there, he could contribute to the conversation.

The identity of John Paxson told him that both Peggy and Sousa had read his SSR personnel file. John was from a well-to-do family and Jack assumed it was Sousa’s idea of a joke to educate him at Cornell’s rival, Harvard. His degree was in business though, where Jack’s was in history. Like him, the fictional Paxson served in the Pacific. Few details were provided on his service and no decorations other than a Purple Heart. Peggy’s likely contribution was explaining his stay in New Mexico as recovery from chest surgery. Paxson was injured in Japan and had ongoing medical problems, a handy story for Jack’s new scars. The picture of his cover forming in his brain stuttered. Instead, he saw Peggy and Sousa sequestered in the L.A. Chief’s office, concocting this cover together. He could see them finishing each other’s sentences and laughing, imagining his response to their fictions. 

He pushed that away; what mattered was if he could sell his story. While on convalescence, Paxson was looking into his family’s unsuccessful uranium mining operations. They hadn’t located much uranium in their explorations, but very soon, John was going to start talking about something weird the workers had found in the test mines. Peggy included the description of an 084 that would be sure to lure a Hydra operative to approach him, hopefully saving Jack a lot of work. The 084 didn’t sound impressive to him, being less than a foot long and made of some unidentifiable metal. Oblong, bent in the middle, and with faceted edges, it just sounded strange. The purported side effects of exposure sounded dire enough to work; it was more gruesome than he expected from Carter. As far-fetched as it sounded to him, she may have seen something like it during the war. Peggy was the Hydra expert, so he’d use what she included. Overall, his cover was true enough to remember easily but padded enough to provide an excuse for him to poke around. He grudgingly admitted they did a good job putting it together.

He read it, and then read it again, snorting at the bit where Paxson’s father was anxious to make any profit from their operations. Haggling over the sale of a fictional 084 might provide a pretty good idea of the operative’s resources. If anything, he’d have to be careful not to oversell this bit; he knew the feeling of failing to meet expectations all too well. Taking this assignment would have been just one more thing in a long line of Jack’s choices that were unacceptable. Going from Chief to baiting enemy assets was a long way to fall, no matter how important the mission. His old man was probably disappointed in how he died too: caught off guard in a cheap hotel room. Jack was sure he had concocted a more suitable story, something dramatic about dying in the line of duty. A story like that would make the end of the Thompson line seem like a noble sacrifice and his father’s friends would be lining up to buy him drinks. 

Jack’s current cover wasn’t anything flashy. Next, he went through a file box that had been waiting for him on Stark’s plane. It contained the pocket litter to backstop his identity and some files to do the same for his “family business.” The business background wasn’t very deep, presumably because Peggy had prepared it by herself. Jack imagined her staying up late trying to manufacture believable forgeries. It was still better than some missions received, despite her having only a scant couple days to prepare it. There’d be time to bolster this after his arrival; for now he simply made a list of everything he could think to add later.

He turned to the folder that contained the scant intel for the mission. A scientist previously rescued from Hydra was now working at some kind of government laboratory in New Mexico; they had reportedly received an anonymous request for a meeting. Instead of attending the meeting, they informed lab security. The following investigations had found nothing, despite Peggy’s notes that lab security was Army counterintelligence and well trained. The file didn’t say why the scientist suspected it was a Hydra operative contacting him. The purpose of the lab was redacted, although Jack could make a guess. Reading between the lines, he could see why a rumor of a lone agent--from a dismantled organization--would be low on the priority list for further investigation.

* * *

John Paxson flew from New York to Albuquerque, NM first thing in the morning. He caught the bus to Santa Fe, where he stopped at Santa Fe First National to open a new bank account. About a third of the bag of cash went into a checking account and most of the rest into a safety deposit box. The forgery portion of his day over, Jack wandered into the town square and sat on a bench on the north side. He unfolded the New York Times he had purchased that morning at the airport and waited, pretending to read. 

He immediately regretted not stopping to purchase a drink. Despite the high elevation, it was still rather warm here and even drier than California. He could feel his nose and mouth drying out as he listened to a small band set up on the southeast corner of the square. Mariachi, he thought, familiar to him now. It wasn’t his jive, but it would make good cover for a quiet conversation in a public place. 

“New York, huh? The desert ain’t kind to city boys,” a man said as he sat on the bench next to Jack. He was on the short side, but sturdy looking, with dark hair and dark eyes. 

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Jack replied, giving the countersign without dropping his paper. This was apparently his contact in Santa Fe, a counterintelligence op assigned here to protect the mysterious lab. “Nothing to see either. I hope to make it a short stay.”

“You and me both. I know I told Carter I would help you out, but we’re pretty busy here. I don’t have time to hold your hand,” his contact said. “It’s almost the weekend. Saturday night, go down to Albuquerque. Find the Liberty Cafe cocktail lounge on 66. Start tellin’ your story to anyone that will listen. I’ll make sure it gets spread around the lab by lunch on Monday. Let me make this perfectly clear though--you catch wind of anything bad that isn’t your rumored Hydra agent, you tell me immediately. We got a whole mess of snakes in this town.”

“Yeah, she told me you were the snake wrangler,” Jack said. “What about the car?”

“There’s a blue Pontiac parked two blocks south of the square, three east. Keys are behind the visor. There’s a few items under the mat in the trunk, as Carter requested. I expect you to only use what is necessary.” The man started to stand. “I haven’t got time to clean up any messes, so don’t make any. Find your agent--if they even exist--and get out of my town.” 

Peggy hadn’t been kidding when she said support would be lacking. At least he hadn’t been expected to kiss up to his contact agent. With the set-up settled, Jack had two days to get the lay of the land.

The square contained a pharmacy called Zook’s, so Jack moseyed on over. Inside there was a little lunch counter served by one young man who was moving frantically from person to person. As Jack approached the lone empty stool, a brisk beauty of a woman emerged from the back. Her dark hair was woven into a braid circling her head. She slapped an apron over a finely made dress and surveyed the counter with a critical eye. She set a menu and something cold and fizzy in front of him even as he sat down. He must have looked as thirsty as he felt.

“Be right back,” she said. He drank and perused the menu, half-tracking her as she started efficiently making change, bussing plates, and refilling drinks. His glass contained a spicy ginger ale just sweet enough to quench his thirst. Before long, the counter was as tidy as she was and people started to clear out. She sent the young man on a break before returning to Jack.

“What can I get you?” She was probably a few years older than Jack, but her smile was something else. 

“I’ll have another ginger ale and a ham sandwich, thanks.” She refilled his glass before pulling out materials and starting to make his sandwich. 

“Some potato salad with this? I made it myself this morning.”

“That sounds good,” he said. “Is this your place, Mrs. Zook?”

“My father’s,” she said. “Miss Katie Zook to you...?”

“John Paxson, nice to meet you.”

“You’re not a writer, are you, John?” She set a plate in front of him and then passed him some silverware. 

“Who me? No way.”

“That’s good. Knew one once, he was nothing but trouble.”

“Well ma’am, I feel I should tell you that I am definitely trouble,” Jack smiled. 

“You’re pretty enough that I believe that,” she said. “Only question is if you’re trouble worth having or not. What brings you to Santa Fe?”

“My doctor sent me to dry out my lungs. I’m afraid I took his advice a little too seriously.” Katie added a glass of water next to his soda.

“It can sneak up on you. We sell canteens here, if you want to pick one up. It’s not a bad idea to keep some water with you, at least until you adjust.”

“Probably a good idea. I bet you know some nice joints in case I’m thirsty for something else, too. If you want to show them to me, that would give us a little time.”

“A little time for what?” She smiled. 

“Time for you to decide if I’m your kind of trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the object goes, Jack is trying to describe the Obelisk/Diviner from Agents of SHIELD. But he's never seen one, he only has Peggy's description to work with. 
> 
> Liberty Cafe Cocktail Lounge was a real place on Route 66 in 1940s Albuquerque.
> 
> Katie is named and based on a real person who lived in Santa Fe and ran a pharmacy... more on her later :)


	3. Chapter 3

Jack woke in his hotel room with his eyes full of sand and his tongue thick and dry in his mouth. Every morning was like this in Santa Fe. All the moisture in his body leached out during the night. He reached for the pitcher of water he kept beside the bed.

A whole week had passed with very little to show for it. Over the weekend Jack had followed the plan as outlined. He caught a glimpse of the counterintel agent at the cafe as he spun out his bait. Since then, he developed a fairly good working knowledge of the roads in Santa Fe and a part-time companion in Katie Zook. Meeting Katie had been a stroke of luck--she had been running the pharmacy for some time on her father’s behalf and had a fair amount of standing in the town. Her local knowledge came in handy and her connections were likely to be valuable. 

Besides, she was just plain fun, lively and intelligent in a way he hadn’t seen among the dead-eyed dolls of Hollywood. She drank him under the table the first night, on a mission to show him every decent gin joint in town. Either she was bored with Santa Fe or she liked how whiskey honeyed his tongue, but she was content to let him hang around. Visiting her at the pharmacy was a good way to listen in on the gossips of the town and taking her around had gained him a certain amount of recognition and notoriety already. Establishing that sort of visibility would make it easy for the Hydra agent to find Jack, if they ever took the bait.

He was beginning to wonder if Hydra was even there. It’s not that Jack expected to be approached immediately, but he didn’t like waiting. The irony of the situation had soon become apparent. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid when he chose to fake his death. Somehow he had still ended up bait. He was just hanging from a different hook. It wasn’t being exposed that he minded. It bothered him more that he had to wait, unable to influence how events were unfolded. He’d rather run down a hundred dead-end leads investigating than sit and watch.

For now, that was what he had to do, so he went about the routine he had set up for Paxson. He had breakfast in the cafe next to his hotel before heading to the office. After a few days driving into the desert on the pretense of visiting his “mining operations,” Jack had rented a first floor office just off the Santa Fe square. He couldn’t face another day driving aimlessly into the desert, and it was a lot more comfortable to pretend to run a mining company from the office. His story about the 084 had been ghastly enough; it wouldn’t seem suspicious if he started avoiding visits to the “mines.”

He had spent much of his time either studying maps of the area or manufacturing more false documents for his front company, adding to the backstop Peggy had provided. It was difficult to make the place look like a real--if unsuccessful--office. His experience as chief of the New York SSR was coming in handy in forging spreadsheets and memos and so forth. That tedious work mostly done, he spent his morning reading the paper. 

When lunch time finally arrived, he walked down to the pharmacy and sat at the counter. The buzz of conversation didn’t provide him with any new revelations, and Jack started to contemplate blowing off the afternoon in the office to linger in one of the rougher bars in town. A man attempting to manage a failing company might reasonably spend some time drowning his sorrows, and it would break up the monotony. 

“Hey, sugar,” Katie said, dropping off a slice of apple pie a la mode in front of him. This woman was going to get him fat if he had to stay very long. “Don’t run off, I have something to talk to you about.” 

The pie was a good way to kill the time while he waited for her to finish cleaning up the lunch mess. It didn’t do much to quell his dread that she was about to ruin their casual arrangement. Katie had never been married and claimed that was by design. Still, she was a decade his senior and women had been known to change their minds. Jack wasn’t opposed to stringing her along for a bit, but he would prefer not to. He had enough lies to remember. Katie was efficient enough that he didn’t have to wait very long.

“We’ve been invited to dinner tomorrow night, John.” That wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“ _We?_ I was included? Who extended this invitation?”

“A woman from my gardening club and her husband, Moira and Anthony Vincent. It’s strange,” Katie said. “She’s never extended an invitation to me in the past, but perhaps she’s grown tired of her other friends. I know I find them rather dull.” Interesting.

“Maybe her taste in company is improving. Do you want to go?”

“She’s never hosted the club--ever--so yes. I want to check her closets for skeletons. Then I want to see how much of their liquor we can drink before she decides not to invite us back,” Katie smiled. 

“Sounds like fun to me. What does Mr. Vincent do in the Army?” 

“I don’t know. I do know that he’s not enlisted; he’s a contractor of some sort. They arrived in town back during the war, as I recall.” Better and better.

“Are there others invited?” Jack asked.

“So it was implied, but she didn’t tell me whom. So we’ll have to wait and see if they’ll be allies in the mission to empty the Vincent liquor cabinet. Of course, this does mean I’ll have to stay in tonight and catch up on paperwork.”

They settled on meeting at Katie’s house to take her much nicer car from there. Katie gave him specific instructions on the type of flowers to purchase for their hostess and a gentle suggestion on what to wear, which meant he had some shopping to do. 

He ended up at the tailor’s for most of the afternoon. Getting measured was even less enjoyable than lurking in the desert or pretending to work in an office. Katie’s comments had made him realize that others--at least women--were noticing what he had tried to ignore. His brush with death left his suits fitting oddly. They were baggy in some places from losing weight while on bed rest. The arms and shoulders were straining meanwhile from the muscle he added on afterward. 

Jack did his best to bear it and then made a show of picking cheaper fabrics and haggling over the tailor’s pricing. He’d prefer to pay the man generously for his service--assuming the suits were quality--but Paxson was starting to have money problems. 

The next day he spent learning what he could about the Vincents, although there was little he could turn up without support of an agency--or asking suspicious questions. He did a drive by of their house, although he had discovered they did not own it. It was registered to the Army, along with almost a third of the other houses in Santa Fe. There was more activity than he had expected, with dark-skinned workers doing some yard work.

One suit was ready for pick up by afternoon, and he made sure to dress appropriately. Good to his word, the nameless counterintel man had left Jack a few gadgets in the trunk of the car. Dinner was probably unlikely to call for time-delayed incendiary devices. He still hoped that he might get to cut into something so he wore his belt with the hotwire inside, just in case. He added a lockpick kit, the miniature camera, and his trusty sleeve dagger.

Jack had worn the sleeve dagger on every SSR mission since the war, but since his shooting he had worn it nearly non-stop. It was ridiculous--a blade wouldn’t save him from a bullet--but it made him feel better. 

He checked himself in the mirror before leaving. The blade was properly concealed, the other items invisible inside generously cut coat pockets. It was the first time he had really looked at himself in a long time. He did seem almost like another person. Paxson’s appropriately foppish tastes in suits did little to hide a new hardness. He didn’t look convincing as a slightly shady business owner. Jack took a deep breath, shaking his arms out and relaxing his upper body, slumping a little. He tried to imitate the mooning expression Sousa perfected while staring at Peggy, back at the New York office. 

It would do.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack hadn’t yet made it to Katie’s in the daylight, so she took advantage of the opportunity to show him her garden.

“You’ll have to be honest and tell me how it compares to Moira’s,” she said.

“I’m not really an expert,” he said. At least it was easier to admire a garden than watch yet another audition. Some of the plants were strange, prickly things. They made Katie’s garden seem more exotic and interesting than his mom’s back at home. “I can tell you’ve put a lot of work in here, though. It looks like a nice place to spend some time.” 

The front yard of the Vincents’ looked well-turned out to his eye. Katie clucked her tongue and whispered to him under her breath.

“Do you see the dark soil around the base of some of the plants? That means they were recently planted--probably today. I bet this yard was as bare as a baby’s bottom just yesterday.” His earlier trip to the house confirmed as much, although he hadn’t immediately picked out which plantings were new and which were established. Katie was terribly observant to notice such a thing. It reminded him almost uncomfortably of Carter. She was always catching details no one thought to look for. 

It was just plain strange that Katie might be cut from the same cloth. Jack was spared from following that disturbing train of thought when a tall and plump woman opened the door. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face rather severely, giving her unpleasant face a vaguely surprised look.

“Katie! Come on in, the others are already here. You must be John, I’m Moira Vincent. Welcome.” Moira didn’t quite stand back enough to let him in the door without invading her personal space. He thrust the flowers Katie picked out between them as he entered. Jack felt virtuous when he managed to get inside without looking at the scandalously low cut neckline of her expensive looking dress. Inside, Katie was already greeting another man.

“John, come meet Teddy. Teddy is a very helpful person.” Jack took that to mean that Teddy was a big drinker; he was already holding a tumbler of something dark. The man had a couple inches on him and a long, thin face with a slightly hooked nose. His brown hair had a reddish cast, which matched up with his British accent.

“John, a pleasure. I understand you’re here for our lovely air. How’s it treating you so far?”

“I’m still adjusting, I’m afraid.” Jack accepted a glass of champagne from Moira and looked around the living room. The house itself was simple with a straightforward layout, but this room was crowded with fine furniture and fancy tchotchkes. 

“Katie, John, this is my cousin Michelle. She’s staying with us for a bit. Dinner in ten, everyone,” Moira announced. “I just have a few things to finish up.” She left the room. Michelle was just as plump as Moira but a good deal shorter. Katie had already finished her first glass of champagne and procured the bottle when he wasn’t looking. She topped off Michelle’s glass before refilling her own.

“What do you do, Teddy?” Jack asked.

“I work with Anthony, actually.”

“Oh, for the Army?”

“More or less,” another man chimed in as he entered the room. “You’ll understand if we can’t say any more. Anthony Vincent, it’s nice to meet you...?” Anthony wore glasses and was of average height, putting him slightly shorter than Jack and several inches shorter than Teddy. 

“John Paxson. Of course, I served during the war myself.” Jack wasn’t used to being on the outside of the secrets. He comforted himself with the fact that he knew far more than either man expected--they obviously worked up at the lab. This was a good sign, even if he had to wait for them to steer the conversation to his 084 discovery. 

He was fortunately spared from having to recount Paxson’s invented service record by Moira, who asked them all to fix another drink and be seated in the dining room.

* * *

Moira directed everyone to their seats. He was seated next to Katie on one side of the table. Anthony sat at the end next to him, and Teddy across. Jack cringed at the display on the table, the center of which boasted a celery vase, full of trimmed ribs. He hadn’t seen anything like it since his grandmother had passed. Katie cast a gimlet eye at the setting, turning to him with a raised eyebrow that said _Can you believe this?_

His fears were realized when Moira started dinner by offering a spread of cottage cheese and olives to spread on the ribs of celery. Katie crunched through hers with a grim sort of delight. He fixed one to be polite before trying to focus on the conversation. 

“John, I understand you’re from New York. What do you think of our little desert hamlet here?” Anthony asked him.

“It’s different, that’s for sure. I confess, I’m a little homesick,” Jack lied.

“I think that’s how most of our coworkers feel,” Anthony said, nodding at Teddy. “A few of us really love it here now. In my limited spare time, I’ve been doing some reading on the native tribes that have lived in the area for ages.”

“Always has his nose in a book,” Moira chimed in from the other end of the table. She started clearing their appetizer plates. 

“It’s just fascinating to me,” he continued. “The land seems like it would be inhospitable, but the Rio Grande Valley supported a wide diversity of peoples. They held their ground against Spanish colonization for a long time too, until disease wiped them out. I’ve become a little bit of an amateur archeologist. The land conceals a great number of ruins. Has your mining company come across any?”

“We’ve found some strange stuff,” Jack said. “Nothing that looks Indian, I don’t think.”

“If you do, I’d like to take a look. I have some friends down at the university in Albuquerque who’d be interested, too.”

“Anthony, just ask John what you want to know,” Katie interjected. “You’re not subtle.”

“We heard your men found something strange,” Teddy said, looking grateful for her interruption.

“That’s true,” Jack said, trying to look surprised. “Pretty sure it’s not Indian, though.” Moira was distributing bowls of a creamy pale soup that turned out to be potato. It wasn’t bad. There was no meat in it, but the flavor indicated it had a passing acquaintance with some sort of ham product. It was a cheap dish, but Jack had sat through his parents’ fancy dinner parties only to be still hungry at the end. At least this was filling. 

“You would be surprised.” Anthony said. “They didn’t have anything like a forge, of course, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility. Have you seen many Indian artifacts?”

“No, I suppose not,” Jack said. “Didn’t think they did that much with metal, at least not polished like what we found.” He kept his voice mild, trying not to belay his irritation. Anthony was arrogant enough to be Hydra, that was for sure. “If you heard what happened at our mine, you know whatever the thing is we did find is dangerous. If the Indians had that sort of power at their hands, they wouldn’t have tolerated the Spanish at all.” 

“We won’t know unless--” A thump came from the other end of the table. Moira was glaring at her husband.

“I don’t believe this is proper dinner conversation,” she said. “Now John, did you get to the theater much in New York? I was devastated to miss La Boheme; our local theater just couldn’t do it justice…”

* * *

The main course turned out to be pork roast glazed with some sort of jelly; it was a bit overcooked but still edible. Moira released her stranglehold on the conversation to serve it. Katie took the opportunity to top off everyone’s glass, Michelle’s twice, before Moira returned from the kitchen and Teddy started relating a tale about an antelope hunt.

“Do you hunt at all, John?” he asked.

“Took some deer back East when I was younger,” Jack said. “Not since the war though, I’m afraid.”

“Are you interested in giving it a go? Anthony doesn’t hunt at all and I’d like some company next time I go out.” It was appealing. Teddy reminded him of another Brit he knew in college, and it had been a long time since Jack kept company with anyone who wasn’t a fellow agent. There were just too many unknown factors right now. Heading out into the desert with a new acquaintance also seemed like a good way to get shot.

“I doubt my Pop would mail out my rifle when I’m supposed to be working,” Jack said.

“Oh, I can lend you everything you need. You get some time, you let me know.”

After dinner, Katie excused herself to call and check in on her parents. Anthony showed her into his study. Meanwhile, Jack took the opportunity to visit the bathroom. Finding nothing suspicious, he slipped into the study. Katie was still in there but no longer on the phone. Since he was unlikely to get another opportunity, he locked the door behind him and crossed the room to where she was sitting in a chair at the desk.

“No skeletons in this closet,” she reported. “And the dullest collection of books I’ve ever seen. They’re pretty much all history.”

“What about on the desk? Any proof of emergency garden improvement?” he asked, smiling. Katie shrugged and started shifting stuff around as he moved around to her side. 

“This all looks pretty dull, too. Help me find their checkbook register.” He was reminded again of Peggy, but then his mother often snooped at the houses of her acquaintances. Maybe it was just a woman thing, but he didn’t mind taking advantage. He knelt and searched the drawers on the left side of the desk while Katie searched the right. Upon finding the checkbook, he took a moment to use the mini camera to covertly take a few photos before passing it on to her.

“Ah-ha! Right here, the last check was made out today to a yard service from Albuquerque. I can’t wait to tell the girls at the garden club.”

“Are you trying to get her kicked out?” Jack asked, still sifting through papers on his side of the desk. Anthony apparently didn’t make a habit of bringing his work home, which was unfortunate. If Jack had found some classified material, he’d be justified in calling his counterintel contact for some help in investigating the man. 

“Nah, just take her down a peg or two. She’s insufferable,” Katie said. 

“Katie?” Moira’s voice called from the hall. Moving quickly, Jack swivelled Katie’s chair to face him, pushing her skirt up roughly while he bit his lips. She shifted her hips toward him as the doorknob was rattled. She curled one leg around him, pressing her heel into his back to urge him on. He bent his head to kiss and nip at the flesh of her thigh between her stocking and garter belt.

The door flew open, and he licked his lips sloppily before raising his head above the desk. Moira stood in the doorway, looking at them disapprovingly.

“If you two are quite finished, you can join the men in the living room for brandy. Michelle isn’t feeling well for some reason--” she glared daggers at Katie “--and I am going to help her to bed.” She mostly closed the door as she left. Katie waited until she heard Moira move away, and then let herself laugh.

“Quick thinking,” she said, her voice low. “Maybe we should skip the brandy and go back to my place.”

“I’m curious now,” Jack said as he stood. “Did she already decide to serve the cheap brandy, or do we have the opportunity to demolish the good stuff? I’m certain we just ensured we won’t be invited back.” He held his hand out to help her from the chair. 

“I suppose I would never forgive myself if we didn’t find out,” Katie said. 

It was the good stuff. With Teddy’s help, they made quite a dent before Anthony started making noises, indicating they had overstayed their welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

When they left the Vincent house, Jack was still more sober than Katie, so she let him drive home. He hadn’t drank very much at all, relying on sleight of hand to empty his glass when no one was paying attention. Acting drunk was a very good way to get others to let down their guard--not that it helped much tonight. 

“Since we know I can out-drink you, you’ll have to show me sometime how you kept emptying your glass without drinking,” Katie said. “You can tell me what you were looking for in the office while you’re at it.” Jack winced. He had hoped Katie’s observational skills would be impaired when she was drinking, but apparently he wasn’t that lucky. He hesitated a moment too long, and she sighed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say. You’re not the first spy I’ve dated. Hell, I’m pretty sure Teddy’s one.”

“Wait, when you did you date Teddy?” Jack asked, momentarily too distracted to deny her accusation. 

“I don’t know, it was awhile ago. He moved to town a few years ago. It wasn’t serious. That man can drink, but he’s rather dull otherwise. Or pretends to be, which might be worse. We went on a date or two and that was enough.” 

“Even a suspected spy isn’t trouble enough for you, huh?” 

“Well, he was too boring to let me snoop around people’s houses for a laugh, that’s for sure.” They fell silent for a bit, air heavy with everything they weren’t saying. 

“If that’s true, then why do you suspect him of being a spy?” Jack asked eventually. _Why do you suspect me?_

“He listens to everything that goes on around him. Most people kind of tune each other out, or are more worried about talking than listening. You both do the same thing; try and listen to everything going on around you. Takes a snoop to know one, I guess. I don’t have any proof, of course, and I’m not fool enough to look for some. I’m pretty sure this town is crawling with them now. We had a bunch of strange folks come in when they started that lab up there.”

“So do you think Anthony is a spy too?” Jack asked.

“No, he’s just a know-it-all. Your mocking tone is not appreciated. I don’t care if you are or if you tell me, I really don’t.” He pulled into her driveway, next to his loaner car.

“Then why accuse me of such a thing?” He went for a hurt tone and tried to imitate Sousa’s puppy dog eyes. He wasn’t sure it would work there in the dark. Her face was heavily shadowed. 

“I like you, John, and I like that you apparently trust me enough to search an office with me. It was pretty obvious you were up to something; I don’t want you taking chances like that with others.” She was nothing like Carter, he decided. She would go in for the kill.

“Just remember, you’re the one who _started_ searching the desk. Since I’m not actually up to anything, you don’t have to worry.”

“Whatever you say. Are you coming in?” Jack hesitated. He should. Renewing intimacy with her would help strengthen their relationship and might allay or offset some of her suspicions. But he had film to develop and some things to think over. Like if he agreed with Katie--was Teddy a spy?

“Not tonight, sorry. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m doing inventory tomorrow after closing, but you can stop by and help if you want. Makes it go faster,” she said. She leaned in, her lips finding his. Her kiss was the same gentle and unhurried affair he was familiar with, which was reassuring. 

“It’s a date,” he said when she pulled away. “I’ll bring dinner. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, John. Be careful.” They slid from her car and he handed her the keys, taking his time sliding into his loaner while she got into the house. Then he backed carefully out of her driveway.

He was just unsettled enough by the evening to perform a detection route on the way home. It was late enough that he hadn’t seen any cars driving to Katie’s house. The few he saw on the long way back to his hotel did not appear interested in him, nor did he see any of them more than once. 

He was up late enough developing the film that everything seemed blurry to him when he finished. He left the prints to dry and passed out with his clothes still on.

* * *

The next morning dawned without providing any answers. Anthony’s check register didn’t indicate anything suspicious. He was earning a regular government salary and sending a good chunk of it to Moira’s parents back in Iowa every month. She was spending most of the rest on the house and stuff inside. There was no unexplained income. Jack had played a little hard to get over dinner last night, but if Anthony was Hydra, that shouldn’t stop him.

He went over and over Katie’s accusations in his head. Her conclusions were logical--certainly she had him figured out--but he had no idea if Teddy was a spy, Hydra or otherwise. Certainly he hadn’t thrown himself behind Anthony’s pitch to examine the 084, nor had he asked to see it for any reason. That meant Jack had more waiting to do. He didn’t know what to do about Katie, either. Cutting it off would mean confirming her suspicions, and he didn’t want to anyway. That left his options as doubling down on his innocent act, or just telling her the truth. 

He wanted to trust her, but that had gotten him in trouble before. His father’s voice echoed in his head. _People do things for their own reasons._ His experience showed him over and over again that that was true. Dooley only hired him because it looked good to have a Navy Cross recipient working for him; Jack had worked hard to be the kind of agent he wanted. Vernon only mentored Jack to manipulate him. Carter hadn’t thrown him under the bus after the Zero Matter mess, but he suspected it was only because she’d rather subvert him into an ally than dispose of an enemy. That didn’t help him with Katie. The hearts of women were mysterious. She could be digging for information--or intimacy. 

Unenthused, he went down to the hotel restaurant to enjoy a late and leisurely breakfast. Maybe if he stopped thinking so hard, something would shake out.

He was about halfway through his pancakes when a Jane he didn’t recognize approached his table. She looked like she’d be a real knockout if she gave it a try; instead she wore a baggy and dull sackcloth dress. Her blonde hair was pinned up but not curled and she wore no makeup. She was fidgeting. 

“Mr. Paxson, sir? I was wondering if I could have a word?” She spoke softly and hesitantly, as if she expected to be turned down cold. He smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

“Of course, miss. Please have a seat. Can I order anything for you?”

“No, I don’t have very much time,” she said as she took a seat. “Are you the Mr. Paxson who owns Desert Mining Incorporated?”

“My father owns it actually, but I’m currently in charge of operations,” he said. “You can call me John.”

“There is a rumor that your employees found something very dangerous, John. I know someone who is interested in dangerous things.” She said this almost in whisper. Her fidgeting had continued, drawing up one of her sleeves. A dark bruise bloomed on her arm. 

“How does a girl like you know someone like that?” he asked. It wasn’t unexpected that someone would send a shill instead of approaching him directly, but something seemed off about this situation.

“I have a brother, and he’s made some bad choices. He owes a lot of money to the wrong person. My paycheck is barely enough to support us both--” Her voice broke and she took a couple deep breaths, trying to control herself. 

“You can’t seriously be suggesting what I think you are,” he said. 

“Not for nothing--!” she said swiftly. “If you let my brother act as broker, this man would pay, and the finder’s fee would cover my brother’s debt.” 

If this was a set-up to get the 084 in the open, it was a terrible one. A shady third party with an unknown amount of buying power wasn’t exactly a golden opportunity, even for Paxson. His cover wasn’t acting desperate for money yet and he had done nothing to indicate John might be a soft touch for the right girl. Jack had expected an altogether different type of girl sent his way; this one was probably just desperate and a waste of time rather than a link to Hydra.

Well, shit. He thought about the bag of money he was entrusted with for the mission.

“How much does he owe?” Jack asked. She told him. It was enough that it would seriously endanger his ability to finish his mission, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something he could do.

“I’m sorry, those aren’t the type of people I want to get into business with. My funds are a bit limited for the time being, but if you want, I can give you enough to get out of town. You can get settled somewhere else. Leave your no-good brother here and look out for yourself, before something terrible happens.”

“That--that’s very generous, Mr. Paxson. Thank you. But I couldn’t leave my brother. He’s family.” The tears welling in her eyes threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Wait--tell me your name. I’ll leave an envelope at the front desk, in case you change your mind. If something happens, you can come get it if you need it.” She smiled sadly.

“I’m Emily Copsmann.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was probably pretty weird to grow up in small town Santa Fe and then have the Los Alamos lab built nearby in the middle of the war. During wartime, movement in and out of Los Alamos was heavily controlled but there still would have been strangers going in and out on a regular basis. The setting and locations for this story are inspired by a [ book](https://www.amazon.com/Spys-Guide-Santa-Fe-Albuquerque/dp/0826349358/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1474123921&sr=8-1&keywords=a+spy%27s+guide+to+santa+fe) I picked up on vacation in New Mexico.
> 
> The real Katie [apparently dated at least one spy.](http://www.santafenewmexican.com/news/local_news/book-links-trotsky-assassin-to-plaza-pharmacy-now-haagen-dazs/article_7410349e-c962-5aaa-afea-5634962c621c.html) Since she never married and traveled extensively, maybe she was a person who enjoyed that kind of intrigue. That KGB agent was a writer and published a number of books on Latin American history, prompting Katie to ask if Jack was a writer in Chapter 2. She already had his number.
> 
> She did also run her dad's pharmacy after he retired, had a younger sister, loved to garden and wore her hair in distinctive braids. She would have been 40 years old when this story is set in Oct 1947, so she's about 12 years older than Jack. Everything else about my Katie is fiction.


	6. Chapter 6

By some miracle, there was a pizza place in Sante Fe. Jack arrived at Zook’s just before closing with a couple pies. They sat side by side at the counter to eat before getting down to work. Katie laughed at his face when he took a bite.

“It’s better in New York, I’m guessing? I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“I expected it,” he sighed. “I’ve had worse.” L.A. had been downright terrible; this was at least edible. 

“What did you do today?” Katie asked. 

“I arranged for some cheaper warehouse space than what we were using,” he said. He had really forged papers that just made it look like he was renting space, off the books, in several different warehouses. Jack had actually called around and found warehouses with space, and asked questions about how they were arranged. It was tedious but necessary to add to the plausibility of Paxson’s business. He waited for Katie to ask where he was renting. She didn’t, so he continued. “What about you? How was the shop today?” 

“Pretty busy, but that’s normal for the end of the week. Fortunately it wasn’t busy until later, so I had a little recovery time. I’m not entirely sure Moira didn’t cut her brandy with the cheap stuff.” He had to laugh.

“I think it was probably the champagne that was of questionable provenance. Ah, well, here’s to good company, which makes even ginger ale a treat.” He clinked his glass with hers. 

“This stuff is good regardless; it’s my father’s recipe from the old country. Need a clear head for inventory.”

They started with cleaning the front. It wasn’t his idea of a good time, but if people did things for their own reasons, it helped when they found you useful. For Dooley that had meant breaking faces, for Vernon it meant arranging the opportunity to kill Whitney. Katie put her shop before anything. Straightening the shelves was easy, and he’d swabbed enough decks that he could do it well enough for even her exacting standards. 

Activity in the square had died completely by the time they headed for the storeroom in the back. Jack was pretty sure that Katie didn’t need help with inventory. She had the entire stock memorized, more or less, and just had him double checking the reserves while she made a list of products to reorder. If he was really a business owner, he could have learned something from her. Instead, he got a lesson in which drug compounds needed to be separated from others. He also learned the pharmacy had a back door, right next to a desk wedged in the corner to serve as Katie’s office. He swept the dust from between the shelves while she balanced the books and prioritized the reorder list.

“Where does that go?” he asked as he knocked the last pan into the trash. 

“Just the alley. It’s a little bit of a maze back there; you have to circle a bit to get back to the square.” She turned to watch him, like she was expecting a reaction. 

“Will we be using either of the doors soon?” he asked.

“Eager to catch up on your beauty sleep? You can head out if you want, I’m almost done.” 

“I can’t leave until I collect my wages,” he said, hitching a hip on the corner of her desk.

“I don’t remember promising to pay you. What is this going to cost me?” she asked, smiling.

“A kiss, of course.” 

“Just one? That strikes me as pretty cheap,” she said as she stood. 

“I know value when I see it,” Jack said, wrapping his hands around her waist. He let his eyes drift shut as she leaned into him. Her lips just barely brushed his before she pulled away.

“Oh, come on,” he murmured, not opening his eyes. “I think I did a better job than that.” 

She was smiling when she kissed him again.

* * *

His face was hot, too close to the orange and yellow flames. They shadowed what looked like bodies, sprawled in the sand and--he thrashed upright. There was no fire, just the sun coming in from the wrong angle, because he wasn’t in his hotel bed. He was alone in Katie’s instead, although he hadn’t intended to stay. Jack supposed it was a good sign she hadn’t smothered him his sleep.

“Good morning, sleepy-head!” Katie came back into the bedroom, dressed even more properly than usual. “I’m headed off to church. Feel free to clean up and fry yourself some breakfast before you go.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Sure. Of course, if you leave dishes in the sink, there’ll be hell to pay. Lock the door on the way out.” She kissed him goodbye and not like a woman who was headed off to church. Then he was alone, in Katie’s house, with no idea what to do with himself.

He started with a shower. It was difficult since her tub was crowded with dozens of little bottles, containing this potion and that. It was probably a side effect of owning a pharmacy and being taller than her showerhead, he kept knocking them over. 

That done, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on yesterday’s clothes, and looking at Katie’s dresser and vanity. He should do what any good spy would do and search them. He had the whole house at his disposal, and he might not have an opportunity like this again. If he found something, he’d know he couldn’t trust her. If he didn’t, he still wouldn’t be sure. 

He thought about how her eyes fluttered shut when he touched her and how she had pushed _him_ down on the bed last night, hands on his wrists, pinning him. He left without looking at anything, not even the pile of her mail sitting on the kitchen table.

It was Sunday and that meant he had nothing to do with himself, no cover activities to keep his hands busy. Most of the bars in Santa Fe were closed. He could go get something to eat, but the church goers would be crowding every open restaurant. They’d give him dirty looks if he went out like this, wearing yesterday’s clothes and a heavy five o’clock shadow. Jack found himself on the road, headed for Albuquerque.

The ride wasn’t long enough to settle him. He found himself parked up the street from the Liberty Tree, staring at a payphone. He wanted to call Peggy, although he didn’t have anything to tell her. He didn’t know anything new. He could dig deeper into Anthony, but it would be more prudent to wait. 

He went into the bar. At least it was dark and cool in there and his somewhat rumpled appearance didn’t raise any eyebrows. He sat and drank, wondering what was making him feel worse: was it that he couldn’t trust Katie, or was it that he’d been sloppy enough to make her suspicious? Hopefully he wouldn’t be thinking on it for long.

He was only on his second round and still feeling down when Teddy came into the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want more of Jack's experience with Santa Fe pizza, read the second half of [ irisdouglana's story here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400199)


	7. Chapter 7

Jack managed not to flinch when Teddy sad down next to him. He cursed himself for not remembering to watch his rearview mirror on the drive down. 

“Now there’s a fellow I can talk to!” Teddy said, clapping his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “It’s good to run into you, but you look like you had a rough night, mate.”

“A _good_ night,” he replied, winking. This at least was easy; he could do this. 

“Ah. With the estimable Miss Zook, I hope. I’d love to hear how you cracked that particular nut, since she tossed me aside faster than blinking.”

“Wasn’t that hard,” Jack said, shrugging. “Some of us are just gifted.”

“The talented ones never share secrets. I guess it’s just a bachelor’s life for me.”

“So you didn’t get anywhere with Michelle?” he asked. Teddy snorted.

“If I even implied an interest, Moira’d have me married off to that country bumpkin before I could turn around. And then I’d be related to that harpy. Anthony’s a good enough chap; I’m still not certain what he did to saddle himself with that woman.”

“He seemed rather short on charm the other night,” Jack said. “How long have you known him?”

“A couple years. I guess he can be a bit short tempered, and he is the kind that gets a little too invested with his hobbies. We don’t get much time outside of work, you see. The Army--our work--is very demanding. Personally I like to relax like a normal bloke and just have a few drinks and a laugh, but he’s got to keep that big brain of his busy. There was quite a buzz when your story went around, you know.” 

“Oh? I figured it be good enough to buy me a few drinks, but maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. The last thing I need right now is a government audit or something.” He was safe enough from that, assuming his contact agent was doing his job. 

“It’s a real risk. Someone might confiscate it. You ever hear of the SSR?” Teddy asked.

“Can’t say I have. Government agency, I’m guessing. Are they in the business of stealing things from private owners?” Jack asked. He tried not to hold his breath. 

“Sometimes. It might take them awhile to get wind of this; they’ve been having some internal problems, from what I hear. But if you want to try to sell it, I’d do it sooner than later.” That felt like a hook. Jack sipped his drink, thinking about the best way to nibble. 

“It would be a help if I could sell it. Things are getting a little lean in our mining enterprise. If I had connections to do so, I would have done it already. I just don’t see that Anthony and his academic friends coughing up enough to make it worthwhile.”

“I might know someone else who would take it off your hands,” Teddy said, entirely too casually.

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest, since you work for the Army?”

“I work more _with_ the Army; I’m just a contractor. I’d just be helping out two friends, no reason to drag the U.S. government into this. Friends are important, and favors make the world go round.”

“That simple, huh? Who’s this other friend?” 

“Just a friend I have that collects curiosities. I can check and see what he’s willing to offer for yours.” Teddy shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” Jack said, pursing his lips. “I usually like to negotiate face-to-face. It’s so tedious to go through a middleman. It can lead to all sorts of misunderstandings.” If Teddy was only a cut-out, it wasn’t going to help him much. 

“That’s fair,” Teddy said. “Might take a couple days to set up. The delay might cost you.” That was a nice pressure tactic. Jack took a beat to fidget and look worried.

“No, I need to meet them,” he said finally. “If you’re willing to help.”

“Sure, sure,” Teddy said. “I’ll try to get by your office tomorrow and let you know, either way.” 

“Works for me. Hey, thanks, buddy. Next round’s on me.”

Jack didn’t get out of relating John’s service history this time. In turn, Teddy shared stories of running sabotage and disinformation campaigns all through France. When Jack asked for details, Teddy responded mostly with “That’s classified.” His stories all had the ring of truth, being similar to what Jack had learned from Peggy’s real personnel file, the M. Carter file, and stories his buddy Nick had told him about the SOE. What was interesting was _how_ Teddy told him the stories. He wasn’t bragging, exactly, but his stories were designed to impress--and would have, if Jack hadn’t been an operative himself. It made a nice change of pace--usually when he went out for drinks, Jack was telling the stories people wanted to hear. Teddy would fit right in with his agents, talking shit and telling tales that grew taller with each retelling. 

By the time they parted ways, Jack was pretty sure of several things: it was likely Teddy really was some sort of spy; he had no clue Jack was cut from the same cloth; and Jack genuinely liked him. That meant Teddy was good at his job. That made him dangerous. It didn’t necessarily make him Hydra.

Jack headed from the bar to his office, and this trip, he was very careful. He made a number of stops and took a circuitous route back. He didn’t see anyone. Looking was a good distraction. What he wanted to do right now was go and find out all he could about Teddy, but doing so would expose him. For the first time, Jack wished he had a team to back him up. Someone who could tail and study Teddy while he kept to his cover. 

Since that wasn’t an option, he resolved to go back to the office and write Carter a encrypted report. He had a couple suspects to detail for her. If he didn’t write one and something happened to him, she’d have no idea where to start a follow up investigation. Besides, she might know Teddy, or know someone who did, since they were countrymen and supposedly servants of the same agency for a time. It was the closest he could get to looking into Teddy. 

He’d have to mention Katie but he was going to leave out a lot of details. He could write that she was demonstrably suspicious without telling Carter his cover was in danger. Jack was trying to think of the right phrasing when he arrived at his office.

The lock on the door was broken. 

He was reaching for his sidearm before he remembered he wasn’t wearing it. He had his sleeve dagger, but he wasn’t going into a dark room with that as his only defense. He did what John Paxson would do: he retreated and called the cops.

The police force in Santa Fe were a bunch of swaggering fools. They went storming in with fingers on the trigger. Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if they ended up shooting each other. Once the building was clear they brought him in and took his statement. They were annoyed that he couldn’t tell if anything was missing right away, but every file the office had contained was strewn about. The rented typewriter had been smashed too. The lead detective mumbled something about kids and pranks before he left. At least Jack wouldn’t have to worry about the locals getting in his way. 

It took a few hours to reorganize everything; he was a little sorry he had been so fervent about adding to the business’s false records. Nothing appeared to be missing. 

Back at his hotel, he took a careful look around his room. Nothing seemed to be disturbed, which was puzzling; why was his office ransacked? It’s not like it made searching easier. Was he dealing with amateurs or was someone trying to send a message? Either way he would have expected his room to be torn apart as well. With a sigh, he took out the one-time pad and the silk grid that went with it and began to encrypt a report for Peggy.

It was early morning before he was finished. Writing it all out helped him organize what he did and did not know, and there were a lot of things he didn’t know. Was his cover compromised? Did Teddy search his office before tracking him to Albuquerque, or was this the work of someone else? There could be multiple players on the field, and he was just one person. Watching the local cops tramp all over his office, it struck him how exposed he really was--how alone.

He thought about the stack of cash in the safety deposit box at the bank. His advice to Emily rang in his ears. _Look out for yourself._ Jack was a dead man. It would be easy to take the cash and vanish--easier for him than most. He knew how to forge his own new identity if he had to. He couldn’t take the loaner car, but he could buy a cheap used one and drive south. Head to the coast of Mexico, find a job and a pretty little senorita and never come back. 

He’d be done with his family for good, no coming back from the dead to their horror and disappointment. Everything he had on the case--such as it was--was in his report and in the mail on the way to Carter. She’d come to assume he was dead. Jack tried to picture Peggy shedding a tear for him. He thought about her on the floor over Vernon, punching him while demanding to know where he and Sousa were. It was more likely she’d barrel into town and start hitting people to avenge him for truth, justice, and the honor of the SSR. Sousa was smart and persistent. He might be able to track Jack down, or he might just be happy Jack was gone. Eventually even Carter would be relieved she had one less problem to deal with. 

And Jack? He could give up trying to be the man he was pretending to be. He wanted to be that man; it was just so hard. Carter and Sousa never seemed to struggle like he did. Jack suspected there was something about him that was broken and that all his efforts would be futile in the end. It would be easier to lay that burden down and just live. He could be a normal person instead of second guessing everything someone did or said, including himself. No looking over his shoulder for the next bullet, no knives in his clothing or puzzling out the motives of dastardly people, and no manipulating their behavior just enough to bring down the hammer.

To hell with that. He’d probably go stark raving mad in a year without a little intrigue in his life. Besides, he’d been waiting for something to happen. Now there were things he could do. Step one would be to track down that cranky bastard of a counterintel operative and get a little backup. He had a few other ideas too.

After all, he could always run tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

It would have been too easy for the counterintelligence man to give him the number to his cover line. Instead Jack had to park the loaner car on the street one block north of the Scottish Rite Cathedral with the gas cap open. It was less than half a mile from the square, but he still felt very exposed as he walked back to Zook’s. 

He kept his head on a swivel, but nothing happened to disturb the stillness of the cool and cloudy morning. The luncheon counter wasn’t open when he arrived, but the boy who worked the morning shift recognized him and made him a sandwich without complaint. He should have been starving; his only intake yesterday had been his liquid lunch and half a pitcher of water before bed. He was too keyed up to taste it but Jack forced himself to eat while he waited.

This wasn’t like before. That was the boring type of wait tempered with mild anticipation, like sitting in a theater before the picture started or lying in bed while a girl got cleaned up to leave. This was more like the wait on the eve of battle, tense with a lingering edge of dread. A memory came unbidden, landing on a strange beach half the world away. They were exposed coming in from the sea. For cover, they were forced to dig into mounds of volcanic ash which slid and twisted under clothes and into skin. Instead of the fine abrasion of sand, sharp edges opened tiny little cuts that stung in the salt air. New Mexico was dry where that Pacific Island had been humid, but they were otherwise similar: inhospitable and strange.

He found himself stroking the sheath of the sleeve dagger under his clothes. Jack shook himself and forced his hand away. The cover of John was easier to wear. The desert might be hostile and the mission might be dangerous. It was nothing compared to the hell that had been Iwo Jima. 

Katie appeared before his contact did. He had hoped it would be the other way around, but that would be too easy.

“John! What are you doing here already?” Katie pressed a kiss to his cheek on her way behind the counter.

“There was a problem at the office and there was no point in me going in today.” He watched her reaction carefully, but she only looked a bit puzzled. 

“At loose ends, then? I have to do the ordering right now, but I could probably take off after lunch. Can you entertain yourself that long?”

“Oh, sure. I haven’t gotten through the paper yet,” he said. 

Katie was still in the back when the other operative finally appeared, sitting on the same bench as before. Jack ducked out of the pharmacy but didn’t stop to sit. Instead he kept walking into the history museum housed within the adobe building along the far side of the square. He bought a ticket inside, moving to study the display discussing New Mexico’s statehood.

“Are you being watched?” the other man murmured when he finally sidled up. 

“It’s very possible,” Jack replied, quickly filling him in on what happened to the office.

“You’re calling me in because of that? That proves nothing.”

“I’ve also been approached by multiple parties. Don’t you want to know who? Half of them work at your lab--looking at them now might prevent trouble later,” Jack paused to let that sink in. “I just need a little background, you probably have most of it already.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Give me the list.” He took out a little notepad, scribbling the names as Jack listed them. Anthony and Moira Vincent. Teddy Grant. Emily Copsmann, just to be thorough. Jack hesitated and then added Katie Zook. “What, are you giving me the names of every person you’ve met in Santa Fe?” the other man grumbled. “Fine. This will take a couple days but I’ll leave what I find at your hotel.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Jack said. “I need a quicker way to get in touch.” The man sighed and dug a card out of his coat pocket. It read _Charles Drake, Department of War_ and had a local phone number.

“The line is monitored 24-7 but it’s official; everything is recorded,” Drake said. “You’re still off the books, so don’t say anything that would get either of us in trouble.”

* * *

“Where’d you wander off to?” Katie asked when he returned to the pharmacy.

“I just went for a walk. It’s so nice and cool out today,” Jack said. “I moved my car because a better spot opened up.” Again, he waited for a follow-up question that didn’t come. Maybe Katie wasn’t trying to work him. Maybe she was only biding her time. 

The lunch rush had come and gone; Katie put him to work washing dishes. He hated dishes but she seemed to find him an amusing sight in an apron with suds up to his elbows. 

“Shall we take a drive after this?” he asked while he worked. 

“I think I’d rather stay in,” she said. “I had such a busy afternoon yesterday.”

“Oh? What did you get up to?” _Ransacking my office, maybe?_ he thought.

“We had a meeting after church to plan for our upcoming carnival. It was insufferable, a bunch of old biddies trying to outdo each other with the best ideas and whatnot. I hate it, but I have to go to the meetings, because we’re a sponsor. After that, I went over to my parents’ for Sunday dinner.” Katie paused. “They want me to bring you next time.”

“Wait, really? How do they even know about me?”

“It’s a small town, and everyone knows my dad. Now that he’s retired, he spends his time at the hardware store with the other such men. They’re as bad as women when it comes to gossip.”

“Do you want me to meet them?” 

“Do you want to go?” she asked in return. This was edging into a discussion that he did not want to have. Jack rarely saw girls more than a couple times apiece in an attempt to avoid this very situation. 

He hesitated too long. “Maybe not yet?” she suggested. 

“Yes,” he said relieved. “Not yet--but maybe soon.” Katie seemed pleased with this answer--or at least not upset enough that it would derail his other goals for today. 

Going back to Katie’s place on a Monday afternoon had the feeling of an indulgent escape. It carried the suggestion of getting away with something. Jack could almost forget why he was there. Katie went to fix them drinks, but he stopped her by pulling her close. She lifted her face to his and he kissed her deeply, leisurely. She seemed to share his mood and let him set the pace. There was a benefit in romancing a mature woman. There was no need to cajole Katie, who had long grown comfortable with her desire. That was appealing and she knew it, often used it to get what she wanted. Today instead she let him steer completely, and he took it slow.

The sleeve dagger presented a challenge; usually they only undressed in the dark. They moved into her bedroom. Jack stood behind her, worked the zipper of her dress down slowly, and followed that with teasing off her undergarments. He paused here and there to kiss newly exposed skin--while he unfastened the dagger’s sheath and hid it in his shirt. Katie meanwhile worked her hair out of the braid that wrapped around her head. When the last strands were untwisted and she was wearing nothing but panties, she crawled onto the bed. He admired her shapely ass as she went. As she turned over, he was struck by the inescapable knowledge that there was no hiding at all right now. They had neither the night nor the warm haze of alcohol between them. 

He made sure his pants landed on top of his shirt and went to her as if he had nothing to hide.

* * *

He drew it out as long as he could which was a while when inclined. Afterward he lay stomach down on the bed, pleasantly spent. Katie’s fingers tracing the tattoo on his back.

“Why cannons?” she asked, fingers outlining where they crossed between his shoulders. 

“Most guys in my unit got golden dragons, for crossing the international date line. My pop would’ve had a fit if I came home with ‘Oriental garbage’ permanently etched onto my skin. The cannons are acceptable. Barely.” This might have been the first time he told Katie the unvarnished truth about anything. 

“Is that why you have it here? Instead of on your arm?”

“Yes. I might not have been sober enough to avoid my time in the chair, but at least I managed to minimize the damage.” 

“I’m surprised you cared what your father thought. You had no idea if you were even going to make it home.”

“My father’s voice is loud enough that I could hear it yelling at me halfway across the world and through a fog of rotgut whiskey. You’re the eldest--you must have some idea what it’s like to carry your parents’ expectations.”

“I think it’s a little different for women. They expected me to get married to someone who would take over the store. What they cared about was being able to retire and leave it in good hands, and it is, so they aren’t too fussed. For a while they made a lot of noises about grandchildren and who would keep it after I’m gone. Then the war happened and lot of women here were left children but no husband and no work. That kind of misfortune puts things into perspective. It was bad enough when my sister’s husband was drafted and we all worried about him making it home. I bet your parents were just happy to have you back.”

“My mom, probably. The shine seemed to wear off quickly for my pop--I was barely cleared by the doctors and he started shoving work at me again.” That was close enough, to both the truth and to where he was steering the conversation. He flipped over onto his back and covered his hands with his face. “He’s going to be really pissed when he finds out about the office.”

“Yeah, what happened at the office?” 

“We were robbed.” She sat up, either genuinely surprised or very good at faking it. 

“What?” 

“Well, I guess it’s not robbery if nothing is taken, but it was searched for sure and the typewriter was smashed. I didn’t go in today because I’m avoiding his calls.”

“Why would someone do that?” Katie asked, now more upset. 

“I think--” Jack dropped his voice. “I think they were looking for that thing we found in the mine.”

“But nothing was taken, so they didn’t get it?” she asked. 

“No, I wasn’t keeping it in the office.”

“That’s good.” She laid back down, hand over the new scars on his chest, still raised and red. “He can’t be too mad at you then. Did you find some place safe to stash it?”

“I hope so. You know the Scottish Rites Temple?”

“You gave it to the Freemasons?” she asked.

“Not exactly. I might have buried it in the flower beds out front.”

“Oh. Maybe you’re not a spy after all. I would have expected something more sly,” Katie teased.

“If I was a spy, it probably would have been,” Jack said. “What would you have done with it?” 

“Mailed it to someone trustworthy, probably. I guess I’m not that sneaky either.” 

“No, not so much,” he agreed, grabbing her hand, now drifting south of his waist. “C’mere.” He rolled, tucking her under him and kissing her fiercely.

Time would tell; he’d wait to see if she acted on his misinformation. For now they had the rest of the afternoon to kill, and he could pretend both of them were honest. Their desires were sincere, if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [Scottish Rites Cathedral](http://www.santafescottishrite.org/) is a real landmark in Santa Fe, built in 1912 and still operated by the Masons. You can get married or host a meeting there.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack felt a little better having set some things in motion, but there was no room to relax. His morning routine now required a trip by the Scottish Rite Temple, to look for holes, turned earth or other signs of digging. This was another situation that would have benefited from a team; he could have placed a stakeout across the street to monitor the garden at night. Without that, this and forging more papers were all he had for diversions right now. He focused on them as well as he could while he waited for Drake’s research. 

He was taking turns between drawing up papers that made it look like Paxson was trying to sell land and reading the newspaper while the inks dried. There Jack found the first really good piece of news he’d seen: the warehouses where Paxson was supposedly renting storage space had all suffered break-ins. The locations of those fictional rentals were only available in his office files. The only person who would look in those warehouses was the one who ransacked it. Jack hoped whomever it was enjoyed looking through whatever was actually stored there. It must not have been anything suspicious enough to give the game away, since all of them had been searched. This also meant Katie wasn’t working with that person. There was no point in searching warehouses for an 084 if someone told you where to look. It wasn’t proof that Katie was innocent, because there was always the chance more than one person was involved. It was still good news.

Jack was feeling just a little bit smug when Teddy arrived at the office.

He concealed the mimeograph before opening the door. Teddy started talking immediately, as if he was in a hurry.

“John, how are you doing? I hope this is a good time.”

“Sure, Teddy, come on in,” Jack said. “Sorry, I don’t have any coffee to offer or anything. Would you like some water?” The timing of Teddy’s arrival was rather suspicious, given Jack had just read about the warehouses being searched. 

“No, that’s alright; this shouldn’t take long,” Teddy said as he sat down in front of the desk. “I have good news: my friend has agreed to meet, provided you bring the item for inspection.” The item that was completely fictional. Great. Jack sat back down behind the desk. 

“Great, Teddy. How about Tuesday?” This was promising, but he had no intention of meeting anyone before Drake coughed up the information he needed. Jack wasn’t sure when he’d receive it.

“I was thinking a lot sooner--like tomorrow. I made a big deal about doing it as soon as possible, because I thought you were in a hurry.” 

“I’d love to get it over with, believe me, but I have to go out of town for a few days.” 

“That’s very inconvenient. I might not be able to make next week work,” Teddy pressed, rubbing his chin. _You will if you want what I have,_ Jack thought. “What’s so important that it can’t wait?” Teddy continued.

“Just something I have to attend to for one of my father’s other businesses,” Jack said. “I’m sorry to put you out when you’re doing me a favor, but it really can’t be avoided.” 

“You should be sorry--it’s going to cost you.” Jack raised an eyebrow, studying the man’s face. _Was that a threat?_ After a moment, Teddy laughed. “It’s going to cost you a round of drinks! You’re gonna owe me for this. When are you leaving and when do you return?”

“Tomorrow,” Jack said reluctantly. Giving your lies details was so messy. “Supposed to get back in Monday.”

“Okay. The meet will probably have to go down in Albuquerque. I’ll leave the details at your hotel. They’ll be there when you get back.”

“Thanks Teddy. I do appreciate it. I’ve got to finish up a few things and then get packed to head out, but I look forward to getting that drink when I get back.”

* * *

Pretending to be out of town was the opposite of what he had been attempting so far, which was to attract attention. He couldn’t actually leave town, because then there would be no one to monitor the temple gardens. Jack tried to keep a low profile.

It helped that Zook’s had a back door. When he asked to use it, Katie seemed to accept his excuse that he was dodging some shady creditors. She even offered to let him stay at her house. He considered it, but it was too neat. If the gardens were searched while he was with Katie, he’d practically be giving her an alibi. Instead she gave him a key to Zook’s’ back door and he stayed in his hotel, holed up and waiting for news from Drake. He left in the early mornings to stroll by the Temple and at night to visit with Katie when she was free, but stayed out of his office and out of the local restaurants.

It didn’t stop Moira Vincent from turning up at the door of his room one night.

Jack opened up the door thinking it was room service and found her standing there wearing a scandalously cut dress that was a little too small and an encouraging smile. She was wearing her hair down this time, and curled, which certainly lent a softer appearance to her face.

“You’re here! You’ve been a hard man to find, lately,” she said. “I’ve been by your office several times.” It was strange that she had been looking for him at all. Maybe Teddy had sent her to check on his alibi.

“Well, you found me. What did you want with me?” She giggled at him. It was a strange reaction; the last time he saw Moira she was rather put out by his antics with Katie. 

“Can’t come right out and say! Aren’t you gonna ask a girl in for a drink?” She tried to push into his room, but he blocked her.

“How about down at the bar?” he asked, smiling. It was his fake smile, but she didn’t notice. 

Moira eventually acquiesced to sitting at the hotel bar. She sipped champagne and Jack let her make small talk for a bit while he kept an eye on the bar around them, mostly in the mirror. She could tell his attention was divided.

“You looking for a better date, or what?” she asked, pouting. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I owe someone money, and I won’t have it until the end of the month. I’m trying to lay low.” Jack had decided to stick to the story he told Katie. It wasn’t until it was out of his mouth that he realized it might not be the best tactic to use with Moira. 

“You’re not a gambler, are you?” she asked.

“No. It’s Pop’s fault really. He decided we needed to buy some equipment now, and we won’t have money until then. He’s getting a little forgetful in his old age, I’m afraid. It’ll all shake out in a few days, don’t worry. You were looking for me. Is it because you needed someone to buy you drinks? I know we abused your hospitality before, but I got the impression upstairs there was something important on your mind.”

“I just thought it would be fun to get to know you better. There are so few interesting people in this town.” 

“And what does your husband think about you drinking with interesting men?” Jack asked dryly. Moira sniffed.

“He’d have to stop reading long enough to notice. He dragged us to this town so he could work for the Army, telling me it was important that he do his part for the war effort. War’s been over two years, and we’re still here. I don’t really care _what_ he thinks about how I keep myself entertained.”

“I thought you liked it here?” Jack asked. 

“ _He_ likes it here. Loves it, actually. He would be perfectly happy here forever, with his work and his history books and digging in the dirt in his spare time. I’m the one who’s wasting away in this godforsaken desert.” Moira looked like she had been widening more than she was wasting, but Jack kept that to himself.

“Teddy seems to like it too. He seems like a pretty interesting person and is probably pretty entertaining company.”

“Not by my standards,” Moira said. Jack waited to see if she would elaborate, but she didn’t. 

“Those are the breaks. I’m not happy to be here either,” he said eventually. Was that Emily passing through the lobby? It was hard to tell, since the mirror only reflected the door to the lobby at an angle. His attention was drawn back to Moira when she put her hand on his where it rested on the bar. 

“Oh, but you have options,” Moira purred. Her fingertips stroked the back of his hand. 

“I might, if some things work out,” he allowed. “Is that what you’re looking for? Options?” She nodded. “One thing I’ve learned in business is that nothing comes for free. What are you willing to do to get them?” Moira leaned forward, pushing her chest out.

“I thought that was obvious,” she said, licking her lips. 

“That’s it?” He knew it was a stretch, but he had been hoping she had something useful for the case. He shook her hand away. “I get plenty of that, no strings attached.” 

“Yes, but Katie Zook will never leave this podunk town. And even if she did, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not like I would. And I can be very, very appreciative.” 

“That’s just more strings, _Mrs. Vincent_ ,” he said crisply. “I got enough problems without adding to them.” He threw some money down on the bar. “Have a good night.” 

The lobby was empty as he exited the bar, but the front desk clerk waved him over as he by on the way to his room. 

“Someone dropped this off for you, Mr. Paxson.” The man handed him an envelope. 

“Thank you. Did Miss Copsmann pick up the envelope I left with you?”

“No sir, it’s still here. A man with a slight limp dropped off that envelope for you.” It had to be his intel from Drake, as he hoped.

“Did you see her here, though? A little blonde a few minutes ago? With a tiny nose and quite pale?”

“I’ve been checking folks in pretty steadily, Mr. Paxson. Didn’t check in anyone with that description.” Didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Anyone could wander through the lobby when the clerk was busy. Jack nodded goodnight to him and went back to his room. Hopefully the envelope would hold the answers he needed.


	10. Chapter 10

Something seemed off when he got back to his room. There was a scent he couldn’t place on the air--he sniffed at his jacket and hands to check if Moira’s perfume had rubbed off on him. That wasn’t it. Everything seemed to be where he left it, but Moira would have been a good diversion to get him out of the room. He wasn’t gone long enough for it to be searched very thoroughly if it was still this neat, which he meant he was probably just being paranoid. His suitcase looked undisturbed. The false bottom still hid the gear brought up from the car and the money that wasn’t in the bank. 

His envelope contained a short, neatly typed letter that informed Mr. Paxson that one of his accounts was due. It read, in part: “Failure to remit payment will result in legal action.” Jack got out the magnifying glass and as he expected, found a microdot over the i in failure. Drake had some sense of humor but he also had some foresight. Jack took the special reading scope out of his suitcase. It was clear right away that Drake had left out or redacted some information. Microdots were nothing but a tiny photograph of a single page of information. With so many suspects, Drake would have had to made decisions about what Jack needed to know, what to include, and what to leave out. It wasn’t ideal, but it was also more than Jack had before. 

The intel on Katie confirmed that she was born and raised in Santa Fe. She had a surprising amount of credit accounts in her name, probably for the store. None of them were overdue. She had no known associations with communist groups, not even before the war or family members. There was one notation on her criminal record: a bar fight in which she managed to break a man’s hand. He’d have to see if he could get her to tell him that story without acting suspicious, but it didn’t surprise him. There was nothing to indicate that Katie was anything other than she seemed. The bulk of the evidence said Katie wasn’t involved. If she had secrets, the U.S. government didn’t know them. 

Too bad Jack himself was proof that secrets could be kept, even from Uncle Sam. The problem with trust is that you don’t know it’s misplaced until it’s too late, and you’re betrayed. 

Anthony had quite a few noted associations with communist sympathizers. He worked for the lab so they were all well detailed, no one that Jack had come across. Mostly it was academic types from the university down in Albuquerque. Americans, one Brit, and one Australian; no one from the Continent proper. It was possible there was a Hydra connection there. Anthony himself had spent the entire war stateside, employed by the Army, most of it in New Mexico. He had traveled abroad but only to England and France for collaboration with his scientific peers, well before the war. It seemed unlikely that Hydra could turn a man in France and keep him an active asset this long, but it wasn’t impossible. He had also been involved in one “security incident” at the lab. Anthony had been accused of removing classified material from the secure portion of the lab. The nature of the materials was not provided and ultimately Anthony had been cleared of suspicion. The reason he was cleared was also missing.

Moira’s file was a little disturbing. It confirmed that she grew up in the town in Iowa where she was sending checks to her parents. She had a couple of childhood friends who had run off from Iowa and ended up being quite active in anti-war and then communist groups, but there was no evidence she was in contact with them, or anyone but her parents since the Vincents relocated to New Mexico in 1943. 

Anthony was her third husband. Her first husband died in a house fire; she married the second suspiciously soon after his death. The second husband’s body was found floating in the East River in New York, assumed to be an accidental death. It was over a year later that she married Anthony, probably hunting bigger game before settling on him while he was still a professor in Chicago. This information put a new shade on the evening for Jack. Moira wasn’t probably Hydra, but her unhappiness would make her an easy target for recruitment. Worse, she might be some sort of black widow, and Jack had just pissed her off. 

It turned out that Emily Copsmann worked at the lab as well, her title described as secretary. Her worry at their brief meeting made more sense now. If her brother was mixed up in something shady enough, she could lose her job. Leaving town would mean giving up her government position; she’d be unlikely to find anything equal to it again. Like Anthony, she had also moved into work for the lab from Chicago, which might just be a coincidence. She had three older brothers and all but one had died in the war; the last was diagnosed with battle fatigue. 

That explained why she was caring for him. Jack had a responsibility to flag her to Drake, now that he knew she was at the lab. Her brother’s problems made her a security risk. He supposed she could already be compromised. Just because her sad story was true didn’t mean she wasn’t a shill, except that she had been absent since her first and only approach. Hydra was supposedly incessant in pursuit of their goals, so she was probably just dealing with her own problems. If he told Drake about those problems, Emily would almost certainly lose her job. It was a murky situation: protect the girl or protect the country? Being a security risk didn’t mean she’d be exploited for sure; it only meant that she was a weak link. How did you balance that against putting a girl out of work and leaving her and her brother in the lurch? 

Maybe Jack could just mention something to Drake without telling him the whole story. If Drake was good at his job, he’d figure it out for himself. 

Teddy Grant had roomed with a Russian student at university, before the war. They had both dropped out and joined up for their respective countries when England was attacked; the Russian was killed in action. Teddy had been with a team of operatives that was captured. He was the only one who survived to be freed from an instillation Jack recognized from a list of Hydra operations. He went on after that to score some big gets from German intelligence, but it was possible he was turned during his imprisonment and acting as some sort of sleeper agent.

It was also suspicious that the Brit was still working at the lab. Drake had redacted the job descriptions of both Teddy and Anthony, reaffirming Jack’s suspicion that the lab contained some portion of the Manhattan Project. The McMahon Act had kicked the British out of all U.S. work on atomic energy about six months ago. There was a wartime marriage to a local girl and a subsequent peacetime divorce noted; in between, Teddy somehow managed to naturalize and that must have been considered good enough. 

The situation felt off but it seemed in keeping with Teddy’s personality--both the divorce and the desire to stay in New Mexico. Why leave the sun and the wide open skies to go home to dreary old England, still under rationing? It still seemed bleak to Jack compared to California, but he could see the appeal. The logic of the situation might explain why Teddy hadn’t been routed by Drake’s counterintel. Logic, reason, and sense were the best cover for a spy. 

Charles Drake didn’t know that Teddy Grant was the one trying to get Jack to move the 084 out into the open either. His file more or less confirmed him as an operative, former or otherwise. There were a lot of holes and maybes in this intel, but this felt right to him. It was impossible to know everything, and if Jack waited for more certainty it might be too late to act. He could work with what he had. 

The lack of support had already been making this mission more challenging, but it would make letting Teddy set a meet impossible. Jack had confidence in his ability to bluff his way out of things--he _had_ turned Vernon and Whitney against each other--but there was no way to fake the effects of the 084. Besides, even if he had a decoy and made it out of a buy, it wouldn’t get his target captured. He probably didn’t have enough to convince Drake to help, and surely not enough to get Carter and Sousa out from L.A.

His brain was swimming with new information, new problems, and new potential pitfalls. There was probably information on Teddy here he could use, but it was late. Planning was probably better left for morning.

That didn’t mean it was time to sleep yet. He really should code another message to Carter that outlined his conclusions, but he didn’t have the energy to fuss with the pad right then. Instead Jack went down to the switch room for the hotel phone system. It was deserted at this hour. His habit of flirting with the telephone girls covering the New York office paid off; he knew how to connect the call so it wouldn’t trace back to the hotel. Jack dialed Drake’s number.

“Mr. Drake’s office, how may I help you?” A perky female voice greeted him. As Drake had mentioned, the line was always staffed.

“Hey, yeah, is Chuck in?” Jack asked.

“I’m afraid not, sir. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Yeah, you bet. Let him know his least favorite brother-in-law called, and the British guy probably has what I’m looking for. Oh, and tell him I saw our friends Tony and Becky together. She was acting a little squirrely; I was wondering if he knew if they were an item these days.”

“Very good, sir. Is this message urgent?” The casual nature of his message didn’t seem to phase her. Jack wanted to say it was urgent, but he also didn’t want the girl to get Drake out of bed. It wasn’t important enough to piss him off, at least not yet. 

“Nah, it can wait ‘till morning. Thanks, doll. Oh yeah, and tell him he owes me $2.” Jack hung up. Hopefully that would be enough to prod Drake into providing more information on those three. For now, he was going to find his bed.

He woke with the heat of flames on his face again, but the odor was wrong. It didn’t smell like a campfire made from half-damp driftwood. Instead it stunk like the SSR labs when something went wrong.

The very real screams woke him up the rest of the way. Smoke already hung low in his room. The hotel was on fire.


	11. Chapter 11

His sleeve dagger was by the bed, and Jack strapped it back on before shoving his feet into his shoes. Moving for the door in a crouch, he grabbed his suitcase as he went. It would slow him down, maybe prevent him from helping others out of the building. Regardless, he wouldn’t be able to finish the mission without it, so it was coming with him. 

The doorknob was hot. He flinched away before it burned his hand and listened. The screaming had stopped. Peering through the keyhole, he saw nothing but flame and smoke. That left the window.

He had chosen a room at the end of the building, away from the elevators and facing a blank brick wall across the alley. On the third floor, it had a tactical advantage, making it harder to observe his movements from outside the building. The window was already open and it was easy to knock the screen out of the way. There was a dumpster set against the building, not exactly under his window but fairly close. He tossed his suitcase down into it. 

Sirens were approaching now and he hesitated. The fire truck had a ladder, but he didn’t know how many people were trapped in their rooms, waiting for rescue. Smoke was also building in his room. He could wait and hope they got to him and jump if the smoke got too thick or the door started to burn. Waiting now meant losing time outside, where he could watch the crowd and look for suspicious behavior. 

Screw it. This hotel was a death trap and the dumpster was less than twenty feet below. The risk was worth it. Jack slipped over the window ledge, dangling the full length of his body before pushing off with his feet and hands. He curled up and had no time to pray for a soft landing before he hit the trash. It knocked the wind out of him and it smelled terrible, but as he unwound himself carefully, Jack decided he was okay. His shoulder was a little bruised where he had landed but that was better than being charcoal. 

He grabbed his suitcase before heading towards the back of the hotel. Jack skirted around the building next door before running up the next alley and across the street. There was a crowd forming there, even though it was close to morning. He worked his way through it slowly, examining faces as the people in the crowd cheered on the action of the firefighters. They were fighting a losing battle as the top two floors of the four-story building were already mostly consumed. Part of the roof started to collapse, drawing gasps from the onlookers. It was then someone knocked into Jack from behind, sending him sprawling. He managed to swing the suitcase partially under him as he fell. It hurt his chest like hell the way he landed. It turned out to be lucky, because a foot stomped on his hand where it held the handle. Then multiple hands were on him--some helping him up, and some trying to pull the suitcase away. There was a hand pushing on his head, too, and he couldn’t see.

A group of people was no place to pull his sleeve dagger. He managed to dig his knees under himself and push forward. Jack bit the hand trying to take possession of his suitcase, hard. It vanished, as did the hand pushing on his head, and then he was hauled to his feet by the others in the crowd. He spun, looking for his assailant, but only saw concerned faces. A quick glance at the hands around him didn’t reveal any bite marks. They were gone.

What was left was an odd taste in his mouth. It was a stronger version of what he smelled when he had gone back to his room--when he woke up. It was chemical, sweet and almost fruity. Jack still didn’t recognize it, but it put him to mind of evaporating gasoline. He felt the blood drain out of his face. His assailant was dripping in some sort of flammable compound. The fire wasn’t an accident, it was engineered to make him flee or kill him and leave the 084 to be dug out of the ashes. He was exposed and vulnerable in the crowd, but someone was _here._

Jack found an empty doorway and huddled in it, watching and rubbing his chest until the crowd dispersed. There were a couple people that looked pleased by the goings-on, and he committed their appearances to memory. He didn’t see anyone he knew. 

When the street finally cleared, it was well into morning and he headed off to find another hotel. He took a cab to the other side of town and another back most of the way. Then came the part where he walked in circles, first a big loop around most of downtown then smaller ones as he moved in towards his destination. He reversed direction twice in the process and finally sure no one was following him, went in to get a room.

* * *

It was approaching lunchtime after he got checked in and had a shower. It would have been a good idea to rest up while he was safe. Despite not getting much sleep, he was too keyed up to nap. He’d also left most of his clothes behind and the ones he had stank of smoke, so he went straight to the tailors’. They still had one suit he hadn’t gotten around to picking up, and he let his mind work while they pinned up another couple on him.

He wondered if Moira had been a diversion. Something about it seemed unnecessarily complicated. Jack had been spending much of his time in his room and probably wouldn’t have left if not for her, but he also wouldn’t have noticed a person spreading accelerant in the halls--particularly if they waited until it was late. 

He had no idea if Teddy was behind this or if there were multiple players on the field. It was possible that Teddy was trying to set up a deal to sell John’s item in good faith. It was just highly unlikely. As he had determined the night before, it was time to act, and moving on Teddy was his only option. The good thing about the lab was that there was only one road in and out, and it was a fairly winding road at that. Jack had seen Teddy’s car at the Vincents’ dinner party. It would be easy enough to stage an ambush, shoot out his tires. Once he had Teddy, Jack could question him. It had been forever since he had gotten a proper interrogation in and the attack that morning left him itching to return the favor. The only snag was capturing a man like Teddy, who would almost certainly be armed, would be difficult to impossible to do alone. 

Katie probably had something that would make it easier. She kept the good stuff under lock and key, but the end of the month was too far off to wait and help her do inventory. He could probably take an imprint and duplicate the key fairly easily. Then he could use his key to the back door of Zook’s and retrieve whatever he wanted. It would take more time than just asking, and there was another thing.

He didn’t want to steal from Katie.

Jack wasn’t going to think too hard about why that was, but it was unnecessary anyway. Katie would likely give him what he asked for. He might have to lie to get her to do it, but she would. 

When the tailor was done pinning stuff on Jack, he went back to the hotel and coded a long message to Peggy. The fire was the best evidence so far that Hydra was actually lurking about. If he had died, Peggy would have been without the knowledge that Teddy had approached him and have no reason to look at Moira. If he bit it on this job someone would come to investigate, and they needed all the information he had. So he laid it all out, even though coding such a long message was tedious and time consuming. He outlined all his suspicions about the fire, about Moira, and about Teddy, and he mailed it on his way to Zook’s.

Jack packed most of the tools still cached in the car into his near-empty suitcase and hauled it inside with him. He let himself in the back door with his key and barely had it closed before Katie was wrapped around him, tears in her eyes. He was horrified to realize his own eyes started to water too. Jack had already died once with little fanfare, with no reason to expect a second time would be different. Katie’s embrace made his chest ache again, but not in a bad way. Maybe things were looking up.


	12. Chapter 12

“They found two bodies in the hotel,” Katie said, pulling away from him. “They’re still trying to figure out who they are.” Jack grimaced. Whoever set the fire certainly didn’t care about collateral damage. “Can I convince you to come stay with me now?” she asked. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “It would be safest if we stopped seeing each other.” The words escaped his mouth before he had time to think about them, but it was true. If Katie wasn’t mixed up in this--and it didn’t seem like she was--he was putting her in danger. She didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t even told her why. 

“What exactly makes seeing you ‘unsafe’? Don’t answer that yet,” she said before he could answer. “I’m going to go make you a plate, because I know you haven’t eaten yet. Think about your answer while you wait for me to get back.”

It was meatloaf day at Zook’s lunch counter, and she came back in with a plate loaded with it, as well as mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans, all topped with a fried egg. A second plate held a couple brownies. 

“Eat,” she said, placing it on her desk. “I have to go and talk to someone out front.”

He stashed his suitcase behind a filing cabinet and then filled his suddenly aching belly while he thought. If people could be trusted to act in their own self interest, it had a benefit in making them predictable. Vernon had wanted power, and that was how Jack knew he could turn Vernon against Whitney. Carter might pretend she was above that sort of thing, but she had a driving need to uncover the truth. That was why his attempt to blackmail her into returning to New York had failed; her interest was in answering questions and not in self preservation. 

The problem with Katie was that she seemed to have no interests here, nothing to gain. Certainly John had done nothing to earn her concern or kindness. Given her independent nature and penchant for mischief, she’d be unlikely to step aside no matter what he said. He hated asking her to anyway.

By the time she returned, he had cleaned his plate and was considering the second brownie. She pulled a stool over and perched, waiting for her answer.

“I’m not safe because you were right.” He couldn’t say he was a spy, it sounded ridiculous. “I’m here trying to find a very bad person, or people. I think the fire was them. They didn’t get what they wanted, so they’ll be back, and I’m afraid they’ll hurt you.” It might be too late already, since everyone in town seemed to know they were an item. He wasn’t even telling the whole truth but it still felt strange to be honest.

“Thank you for telling me. Before I remind you I can take care of myself, I guess I should tell you that it was Teddy I was speaking with up front just now; he’s looking for you.” Jack tensed.

“What did you tell him?” he asked.

“That I hadn’t seen you for a couple days. Was that right?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be out of town right now.” The timing of Teddy's arrival was highly suspicious. If he was sniffing around, he probably knew Jack had never left town. Which meant the hotel _had_ to be him. No one else was being nearly as persistent. “Did he believe you?” 

“He seemed to. Probably easier to keep our stories straight if you told me these things in the first place. It didn’t seem to faze him, anyway. He asked that I give you a message. His buyer wants to meet you at Diablo Canyon in two days, an hour after sunset.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” he muttered.

“Is Teddy Grant the bad person?” Katie asked, voice laden with disbelief.

“That’s my guess. I need to find out for sure and I need your help.”

“You need my help but you don’t want to see me anymore.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” he winced. It was too much to ask. He probably should have just commandeered what he needed for the good of the country. “Please?”

“You’re too much. Maybe you aren’t my kind of trouble after all.” This was is it. She wasn’t going to help him. It was probably better. He could manage-- “You have to pick one.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want to see me anymore, you don’t get my help. You want my help, then I’m not going anywhere. Obviously both of us realize this isn’t forever. Your time is Santa Fe is likely limited, but I won’t have you shoving me aside before I’m ready to go. So which is it?”

Jack knew when he was over a barrel.

* * *

It was already too late to go up and scout a position for an ambush. He still had to set up the office for an interrogation and cruise the road up to the lab a couple times to pick out the best possible spot to wait for Teddy. Jack couldn’t risk still being on a road where he shouldn’t be when people started heading home. 

The delay was necessary and gave him some time to teach Katie a thing or two, like detection routes.

“The best way to find out if you are being followed is to pretend you’re lost,” he told her. “Pull over at random times. Turn around. Take extra turns and make loops instead of traveling the shortest distance between two points.”

“Won’t that be obvious? If I’m being followed and I do that, they’ll know I’m looking for them.”

“Detection routes aren’t about being sneaky, they’re about making it impossible for someone else to be sneaky. You see someone following you, go straight to the police station. You can give me a description later and it might help me figure out who I’m looking for.

“Of course, there’s not much point in this if you’re going somewhere you go all the time. If they realize you’re looking and pull off your tail, they’ll just try to pick you back up at your house, here at the pharmacy, or at your favorite bar. So there’s not a lot of point in doing the run around unless you’re looking for someone specific, or if you’re trying to meet someone without the watchers knowing.”

“You’re going to make me do this when I come to see you, aren’t you?” she asked.

“You wanted to help. If I have to interrogate Grant, I might need supplies, and I won’t be able to leave him alone.”

“Anything else?”

“I know you have a firearm under the counter and a rifle back here. Do you have anything at home?”

“I live alone. What do you think?”

“Are you comfortable enough using a gun to carry one with you? It won’t do you any good if you hesitate when you need it.” She gave him a look. “Okay, just asking. Carry something with you, and keep it accessible.”

“Driving and guns. That’s it for spy tricks?” 

“It’s more boring than you might think. Observation is the most important thing. You’re already very good at paying attention to others. If you see something weird happening, watch and write down all the details you can. Be alert, so you can react to danger. Most people don’t pay attention to their surroundings.” He hesitated. 

It was one thing to admit he was on a job and help Katie take care of herself. It was another to give her something that connected back to the SSR. He needed to trust her with one more thing, even if his instincts led him astray before. If things went FUBAR, she knew more about this town and his activities than anyone else--and she might need help.

“I’m going to give you a number, you’ll need to memorize it. You’re only to call it if something terrible happens. It’s a last resort, understand?”

“Something like you dying?” she asked. Her voice was steady but her eyes were shaded with worry. She couldn’t be faking it.

“Dying or disappearing, if I’ve been gone for at least three days.” If he vanished for that long, he was probably as good as dead anyway. 

He gave her Peggy’s direct line at the SSR’s West Coast Bureau.


	13. Chapter 13

Jack made sure Katie got home alright and in the morning he accompanied her back to the pharmacy to get the drugs he’d need. She was giving him basic instructions on how to load and use a syringe properly when the office phone rang. Katie answered it.

“Zook’s Pharmacy, how may I help you?” A pause, and then she said “Who wants to know?” Jack looked up sharply. _Charles Drake,_ she mouthed. Jack nodded. “I guess he is here. Hold, please.” Katie handed him the receiver and tactfully headed out to the front of the store. 

“Paxson,” Jack answered the phone.

“What the hell happened at your hotel last night? Early investigation is suggesting arson?” Drake sounded harried. 

“I think it was, and I think someone was trying to flush me,” Jack said.

“This is exactly the kind of trouble I didn’t want.”

“That’s understandable,” Jack said. Maybe if he soothed Drake, he could get some help with Teddy after all. “Look at it this way: I didn’t make you trouble, I just found the person who is willing to endanger people to get what they want.”

“I don’t agree with your guess regarding the identity of our troublemaker, either. I dug a little deeper. We need to meet.” 

“So you’re going to help me on this now?” Jack asked.

“I don’t think I have a choice. Either way, I have information you need, but I need to tell you in person.”

“Just say where and when.”

“I can’t get out of here early… say 6:30 PM, north side of the Castillo bridge. Don’t do anything until we speak, okay? Just stay out of sight.”

So much for his snatch and grab. When Katie wandered back to check on him a few minutes later, he told her things were on hold. She seized the opportunity to have him clean out the walk-in freezer she kept stocked for the lunch counter. She had quite the protocol which involved cleaning out the very oldest food, moving the remaining packages towards the front and making room in the back for new orders. By the time he headed out to meet Drake, a light rain had started to fall outside. He had a new trench coat from the tailor’s, but the chill from the freezer lingered as he zig-zagged through the streets behind Zook’s.

* * *

He didn’t see anyone on his detection route, despite the extra time he spent on it. It was a little more complicated and subtle than the procedure he had described to Katie. He even ditched his car, borrowing two more by hotwiring them. Jack was afraid that driving the one Drake provided would clock him wherever he went in town, even if he managed to ditch a tail. It made new vehicles a necessary resource. 

Driving by the meeting spot made it clear why Drake had chosen it. The bridge went over the small river, which would make it impossible for anyone to listen unless they were close. It also had lighting and good visibility in every direction even in the rain, meaning it would be impossible for anyone to sneak up on the position. 

Jack parked a few blocks away and got into place in time to watch Drake approach.

The meeting time came and went as he waited, the rain gradually developing from a light drizzle to a steady downpour. New trench coat aside, it was a miserable wait. He kept wanting to shrug his shoulders and kept having to stop himself. He was not used to wearing the holster for his firearm after so many weeks of playing dead and then playing John. 

At 8:00 PM, he decided he had waited long enough and headed back to his borrowed car. 

As he approached, he noticed a shadow in the passenger seat. Drake must have thought it was funny to make him stand in the rain. Jack loosened the belt on his trench so he could draw his firearm just in case as he crossed the street to the car. 

Drake was indeed sitting in the passenger seat with his hat slumped down over his eyes, but he wouldn’t be laughing at Jack’s bedraggled state or anything else. He was unnaturally still and pale. Charles Drake was dead. 

“Hand out of your coat, mate,” Teddy said from behind him, before Jack could move. His voice was accompanied by the cold brush of a gun barrel at the back of Jack’s neck. Slowly, Jack moved his hands out to the side. 

“Why?” he asked, while Teddy’s free hand snaked around his waist to withdraw Jack’s firearm from the holster.

“Don’t get worked up. I didn’t kill that counterintel wanker. I just found him when I was looking for you.”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to believe that when you have a gun to my head,” Jack said. 

“I’m not sure why we’re talking about this in the rain. Get in the car and keep your hands on the top of the steering wheel.” Jack did as he was instructed, still moving slowly. He watched Teddy in the rearview mirror as the other man settled into the backseat behind him, weapon still carefully trained on Jack. “Alright, that’s better. Bloody desert rains are worse than anything back home. It’s like they try and make up for not coming very often.” Teddy reached forward and brushed the hat from Drake’s face. “Take a look at that, why don’t you.”

There was a tiny little hole bored through the forehead of the dead man. The edges were blackened and there was a faint smell of burned meat. Jack leaned in to look closer in spite of himself. The hole was much too small and neat to be from a firearm or anything similar.

“Goes all the way through,” Teddy said. “I have no idea what it’s from, but I’m guessing it’s some sort of Hydra weapon. Since he was left in your car, I’m guessing you’re not Hydra.”

“What’s Hydra?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, John. If you were meeting Charles Drake, you’re a player in the game just like he was. I thought you were Hydra here to stir up some trouble, until you put off selling your thingummy. Since you’re the one with a dead body in your car, I assume it’s not real, and you were laying a trap to draw Hydra out.” His jargon implied that Teddy was also a spy, although Jack noted that he avoided referencing his own involvement altogether.

“Okay, how do I know _you’re_ not Hydra?”

“In my experience, you’d probably be in a lot of pain right now. They like a rough start to any conversation. Besides, if I were Hydra I’d be demanding your doodad, and we’ve already established it’s fake. 

“My neck is itching sitting in the open. Turn on the car and start driving. I don’t care where as long as you keep moving and stay in city limits,” Teddy directed.

Jack put the car into gear. He hated to admit it, but he believed Teddy was telling the truth. He had realized the 084 was fictional. If he was also Hydra, Jack would most likely be dead, because he was of no value them without it. That still didn’t explain who Teddy was, or tell Jack who he had overlooked. He had been sure it had been Teddy and wasted a whole day waiting to convince Drake he was right. 

“What’s your plan here?” Jack asked as he pulled away from the curb. 

“Between the hotel last night and the dead body in your car, Hydra has apparently decided you’re an enemy. So I want to convince you to be my friend.” Teddy had a point. Jack’s cover was almost certainly blown. Someone was trying to provoke a reaction, but they must still believe or at least hope the 084 was real. 

“Off to a great start, gun at my back and all. Why do _you_ care about Hydra?”

“They’re a plague, a disease we thought we snuffed out during the war. If we didn’t, then there’s still work to do.” There was something in his voice that Jack recognized. Truth borne from painful experience. Teddy was probably telling the truth, but that didn’t mean he was sharing everything.

“Just doing your part for truth, justice, and the American way? Who is we?”

“The Allies, of course. I’m sure Drake confirmed my military service for you. Can we move this along? I don’t have anything to tell you that can make you trust me, and we have a dead body to deal with. And we will be dealing with him ourselves--I’m not bringing the police, military or otherwise, into this.” Jack didn’t want that either. If he had a counterintel contact other than Drake, he’d consider reaching out, but if the MPs got involved, this was going to blow up fast. Not only would he lose control of the investigation, but they were more likely to scare away whomever he was looking for.

Besides, with Drake being counterintel, they only had a day or two at most before the MPs got involved anyway. Without a body and since Jack was off the books, his associates would be slow to catch on to what was really going on, but there was still a ticking clock.

“If I agree we can work together for a bit, will you put your gun away?” 

“Fine, but you’re not getting yours back. Stay an arm’s length in front of me at all times, and I won’t have to give you your rounds back one at a time.”

“You have a place we can search and store the body?” Jack asked.

“Not me,” Teddy said. “Any bright ideas?”

Jack had a bad idea.


	14. Chapter 14

Teddy was kind enough not to shoot Jack for getting too close while they wrestled Drake’s body into the back of Zook’s pharmacy. He was not considerate enough to leave Jack free when he went into the front of the store to look for some tarps. Teddy handcuffed Jack to a rack of paper goods: heavy enough to keep him anchored, with no weapons within easy reach. Jack tried to stretch far enough to grab something from the next rack, and was rewarded with a shooting pain in his chest. 

It wasn’t all bad, even if he had lost his only source of official help. Teddy might be more cooperative about sharing information now that he had the upper hand. This might be even better than if Jack had managed to snatch him. He seemed to have some idea of what was happening here too and better yet, might be willing to do something. It was more than Jack had been getting from Drake--until today. 

Charles Drake had learned something in the last twenty four hours. It had gotten him killed, or--Jack felt his stomach twist. It felt like when he saw a certain newspaper headline in the hands of Calvin Chadwick, the feeling he had bet on the wrong horse. It had been just a bit longer than 24 hours since he had confided in Katie. 

He had been with her for most of that time, but not every minute. There were gaps while he had played tag with the specters of potential surveillance. Last night he had parked his car at a hotel and then jogged back to Katie’s for the night. Certainly they had been apart long enough for her to make a phone call or plant a dead drop in a neighbor’s yard. 

He hadn’t checked the gardens at the temple that morning. It was possible that Hydra had been waiting for Katie to fully gain his trust before moving on his intelligence. It didn’t quite line up with the timing of the fire, unless the goal was really only to scare him into Katie’s arms. It was too late to check the garden now; the rain would have obscured any evidence. He cursed himself for leaving the door open. Drake had called Zook’s directly that morning, too. Katie would’ve had plenty of time to tell someone about that after Jack left to meet him.

Trusting the wrong person had already gotten Jack shot once. He wasn’t keen on his second chance ending with his body dumped in the desert, strange holes burned in his face. He should have gone to Mexico when he had the chance; now all he could do was hope that he hadn’t sealed his fate. 

Approaching voices, raised in argument, distracted him from those happy thoughts.

“You just watch that limey tongue of yours, Teddy, and remember who has the gun,” Katie said as they entered the room. Jack smiled in spite of himself at the sight of Teddy carrying a couple canvas tarps with Katie following him a full arm’s length away, her shotgun aimed at his back. “Drop the tarps and pass John the key to those cuffs now, with one hand. You let me know if you want me to pull the trigger, John. I had him grab an extra tarp.” She glanced at the body of Drake on the floor. “In for a penny, after all.”

“You wouldn’t really shoot me, would you, Katie? We’ve had some good times,” Teddy said as he followed Katie’s instructions. Jack had seen the look on Katie’s face before, and he knew that she would. It reminded him again of Carter--and even more uncomfortably--how Carter had gone behind the back of the entire SSR. 

“One bad date makes me _more_ likely to shoot you, Teddy. Hands on your head now, please,” Katie said. Once freed, Jack took a tarp from Teddy and started laying it out on the floor. 

“I thought you’d be more upset, a dead body in here and all,” Jack said to her as he worked. 

“Teddy warned me you two had made a ‘mess’,” she said. “I was afraid you had ruined some merchandise. If you two started costing me money, then I’d be upset.” That sounded like Katie, but it didn’t reassure him.

“While I do this, Teddy, why don’t you tell me who you’re working for,” Jack said. “I know you’re spying for someone.” He kept an eye on Katie’s posture, but so far she was keeping the gun raised without issue. He rolled Drake’s body onto the center of the tarp before starting to strip the clothes off the corpse.

“That would be easier if you let me help you, you know,” Teddy said. Jack stopped to look at him. “Yeah, okay, mate. Have it your way. I’m only working for the homeland. The Crown is none too happy about being kicked out of the atomic program we helped found. We knew the McMahon Act was coming, and an opportunity arose where I could manage to stay. I hope you’re not too upset about it. It’s only fair we take what is rightfully ours anyway. I’ve only been stealing information on the bits necessary to fill in the gaps in our own research--” The switch from saying nothing about himself to rambling on about the British and their scientists was a dead giveaway that Teddy was lying. Providing lots of plausible but difficult-to-confirm information was a good way to derail an interrogation. Teddy confirmed his intentions when he interrupted his own babbling to ask, “Aren’t you going to write any of this down?” 

“Maybe,” Jack said. The corpse was stripped now, and he started methodically searching the clothes, checking the seams and linings of the garments very carefully. He paused to look at Teddy again. “I’m waiting for you to tell me how Oleg Krilov fits into all this.” At the name of Teddy’s university roommate, something flashed in his eyes before he forced his expression to adopt a puzzled countenance. 

“My old flatmate? He’s dead; why would he have anything to do with this?” Teddy’s chin took a hard set. Jack remembered the last time Teddy had lied to him face to face--he had rubbed his chin with his hand. If Katie wasn’t making him stand with his hands on his head, Jack would probably be seeing the same tic. 

The tells were small, but they were enough to confirm his suspicions: Teddy was spying for the KGB. The Russians preferred to use people from other countries to gather intelligence on their behalf. Teddy had access, and--Jack was guessing--some sympathy to exploit. The KGB having a mole inside the lab was a problem, but it wasn’t Jack’s. He could do something about it later. Right now they had Drake’s corpse and Hydra to deal with. Katie’s posture was starting to droop a bit too. Jack expected holding the shotgun steady was starting to take a toll on her arms. 

“You can put the gun down, Katie. Teddy said he wanted to be my friend, and I think I could use one right about now.” Jack didn’t have to trust him, but he could use a little help. Teddy waited until Katie lowered her weapon before dropping his arms slowly to his sides. 

“Why?” Teddy asked.

“We have the same goal: find the Hydra agent operating in town and take ’em down. Despite working for the British, you’re just as alone out here as I am.” That would be true despite Teddy actually working for the KGB. They would take his information, but they were unlikely to provide him much support for something like this.

“So we share all information going forward, and we leave the security chaps up at the lab out of this as long as we can,” Teddy said. “No fair telling them about me when I’m here helping you out.” 

“And no more pointing weapons at each other,” Jack responded. 

“I’m glad we can be civilized about this,” Teddy said. “Let’s get something to take apart the seams of that suit.” 

Working together, they made short work of searching Drake’s body. There was nothing obvious in his pockets or wallets, but he had probably been searched before his body was dumped in the car. There was nothing strange about his clothes. The cuffs of his pants were a little muddy, but it had been raining. There was a smear of something red on his collar that Jack had taken for blood but Katie pointed out was lipstick.

“Drake have a lady?” Jack asked Teddy.

“He was a widower, wife passed sometime in the last couple years. We weren’t exactly chummy, but as far as I knew, he wasn’t seeing anyone. It’s more than possible he was and I didn’t know it.”

Jack had to admit he wouldn’t have found the radioactive signature without Teddy’s Geiger counter. Drake hadn’t provided one in the car kit. Katie mostly watched but also supplied scalps, swabs, vials, and other medical paraphernalia to take samples of tissues and mud from the corpse and his clothes. Teddy would test them back at the lab and determine which radioactive compounds Drake had come into contact with. 

“I knew the man was counterintel from the way he snooped about,” Teddy said. “Despite creeping around like the spook he was, Drake didn’t normally have contact with any lab materials doing it. This radioactive signature means that he was almost certainly killed by someone at the lab. Who, besides me, approached you about your thingummy?”

“Anthony Vincent, but you were there for that. Moira approached me separately.”   
Emily was still a suspect but Jack had serious reservations about revealing her to a KGB operative. If she was innocent, they would absolutely try to exploit her vulnerabilities later. If she wasn’t innocent, they’d figure it out sooner or later. Instead of naming Emily, Jack caught Teddy’s eye, and then shifted his own to Katie. Teddy followed his gaze.

“I have a hard time seeing Anthony killing an experienced counterintel operative like Drake. I suspect our target is someone else, moving behind the scenes,” Teddy said. It was possible--particularly if Katie was involved--but Jack couldn’t discount anyone yet. If a movie star could be a scientific genius and a murderer, anyone was capable of anything. Certainly Anthony was smart enough to get the better of someone. 

“I think talking to him is still our next move,” Jack said. 

“I agree we need a word with him, but I’d like to get these samples tested first. The specific compounds might give us a better suspect. If they don’t, we’ll still have some evidence. It might help us lean on him.” It was less than ideal to let Teddy take the samples for testing alone, but there was no getting Jack into that lab. He took a second set just in case Teddy decided to vanish with the evidence. 

“While you do that, I’m going to go have a word with the police and firemen about the fire at the hotel. Drake said preliminary evidence indicated arson,” Jack said. Teddy gave him a sharp look. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them I need to know for insurance. It’s a perfectly normal request, but it’ll get me in there to snoop around. I might learn something.” 

“Okay,” Teddy said. “Just remember--no MPs. That goes for you too, Katie m’dear.” 

“That’s the last thing I need. ‘Come look at this corpse I have in my freezer, federal agents!’ I assume that’s where you’re stuffing him. If we wrap him up tight it won’t hurt anything, but if it gets out I’m keeping bodies in there, it’ll kill my lunch business.”

“You’re a good egg, Katie. This dodgy fellow doesn’t deserve you,” Teddy said. 

Jack was worried two of them were _exactly_ what he deserved.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack picked up his new suits in the morning before heading back to Zook’s. He managed to schedule a meeting with the detective in charge of investigating the hotel fire for that afternoon. Meanwhile he studied a map of town, asked Katie several questions about different buildings, and checked the weather forecast before retrieving his suitcase from where he had stashed it.

He only had three pocket incendiary devices and this was going to require two of them. He would just have to hope that if anything else required an explosion, he wouldn’t need time delays. Jack was no explosives expert, but these came with instructions that made them almost foolproof. He double checked the time delay chart before selecting the appropriate time delay pencils in two different colors. Once set, the pencils would act as stoppers, eroding over minutes and delaying the chemical reaction that triggered the explosion. Katie watched his preparations with frank interest. 

“Are you arming bombs in my shop?” she asked.

“Nah. These are a couple steps away from armed still. Don’t worry, they’re very stable. I’ve been carrying them around with me for weeks.”

“That’s not precisely reassuring,” Katie said. “I thought you were trying to avoid making a scene. Are you sure blowing something up is a good idea?”

“I don’t have a lot of other options at this point,” he said. Certainly he liked this option the best. Someone had burned down his hotel and left a corpse in his car; it was time that he start wreaking a little havoc of his own. 

“If all you need is a distraction, I could probably manage that,” she offered.

“Enough to clear out an entire police station?” he asked. “It’s not that I doubt your abilities, baby, but I’m afraid something that big would cause you all sorts of trouble you don’t need.”

“If you’re sure,” Katie said dubiously. “Teddy’s going to be pissed. I’m not sure he did himself a favor, getting involved with this. Do you believe he’s being honest about his motivations?”

“Mostly--I saw part of his service record. If you knew how Hydra operated...” Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t seem even a little unreasonable that he holds a grudge. 

“He’s also playing a pretty deep game right now, and having other operators on the field makes it more likely he’ll be caught out. Working with me doesn’t add to the risk he’s already facing with someone else running around, burning things down. It’s in his best interest to get both us out of town; helping me is the most efficient way.”

“He probably won’t see it that way when you start blowing things up,” Katie said. Jack shrugged.

“The security of his operation is way down on my list of priorities. If he’s where he’s supposed to be--up at the lab getting those samples tested--he should be safe enough. Hell, a security incident like this might even help him get the job done. In the long term, these devices came from Drake. They’ll add to the confusion surrounding his disappearance, maybe even convince people he’s still operating.” He didn’t tell Katie that at some point, Teddy would almost certainly try to fully turn him. He would need to convince Jack not to expose him once the mission was completed. It would be easier to mislead Teddy into thinking he succeeded--and for Jack to get out of this partnership alive--if Jack was somewhat uncooperative at the start. 

“Oof. I know I’m in over my head when blowing things up starts to seem reasonable.” If that was true, Katie wasn’t as much like Carter as Jack had feared. “I’m going to go participate in some nice, simple commerce instead of this lunacy. Be careful, okay? If you die or get arrested and l have to deal with that corpse in the freezer myself, I’m going to be pissed.” Worry bled into her voice despite the bluster in her words. Jack found himself wishing he could just appreciate the sentiment, instead of trying to gauge her sincerity.

* * *

It was a simple matter to pick out two cars, a couple blocks apart, parked on low-traffic streets. Jack made sure to remove their distributer caps to make sure they wouldn’t be driven off. To arm the pocket incendiaries, he crushed the chambers holding the reaction chemical and stripped off the safety foil that separated the chemical from the time delay pencil. The magnets inside the device meant all he had to do was press them to the bottom of the gas tanks. The hardest part was getting the grease off his hands as he walked toward the police station.

Inside, the station hummed with activity. Jack watched people move about while he waited for the detective to come escort him past the desk clerk and dispatch booth in the front of the station. Past them, there was a very simple layout, with offices and conference rooms arranged in a horseshoe around a bullpen in the middle. In one of the offices, he could see Emily Copsmann speaking with a uniformed officer. He hadn’t heard from her since their initial meeting and he hoped that her presence at the station meant she was getting the help she needed. Certainly the conversation between them looked serious.

His observations were interrupted by the arrival of the detective in charge of the arson investigation. Jack recognized him as the same detective who took his statement when his office was ransacked.

“Mr. Paxson--it seems like you either have some really bad luck, or someone is out to get you. I’m glad you came in. I saw your name on the hotel register and I have some questions for you.” The detective waved Jack into his office on the far side of the bullpen.

“My luck’s been bad for long enough that I almost wish it was the other. Can’t do anything about bad luck but wait it out,” Jack said as he sat. 

“So you don’t have any idea who could be behind this hotel fire, then? We found evidence of an accelerant.” Jack groaned and put his hands into his face. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “My insurance is never going to pay out if you’re making an arson ruling. No, I have no idea why anyone would do something like that. I can’t see what they have to gain.”

“But you lost things in the fire, yes? You must have, if you want to make an insurance claim. Maybe that was the aim.” This was taking too long. It was a little on the cool side today. Jack hoped that was the only reason behind the wait.

“I lost some personal effects when I ran out. An expensive watch, an heirloom tie clip set with precious stones, that kind of thing. They were valuable, but that makes it seem like someone would be more likely to steal them than try to destroy them.” Jack really didn’t need the local force getting interested in him now. Finally, he heard a distant percussive blast. “What the hell was that?” 

“I don’t know. Please wait here.” Jack might really have the bad luck he claimed--the detective shoved the files on the top of his desk into a drawer and locked it before heading out into the station’s bullpen.

Jack watched through the doorway as the station erupted into chaos, only loosely reorganized when most of the men departed. He felt a little pang of sympathy for the chief. As convenient as a team would have been on this op, leading others was no picnic. Jack hadn’t thought very hard about what he was giving up when he decided to play dead--he was too focused on staying alive. If he went back to his old life, his job as chief wouldn’t be waiting for him, but he decided he didn’t miss it. Being chief was a burden without the benefits that came from getting your own hands dirty.

It was too bad he had to die to figure that out. He might have been able to avoid getting shot altogether, if he had realized sooner. 

The second concussive blast was a bit more distant and had the desired effect. The remaining station staff moved out, with only a dispatcher and one desk clerk left by the entrance. Jack eased the door mostly closed before taking out his lock picks.

It took longer than he liked to pick the lock on the drawer. It was a sturdy one and his hands were sweating; he had to wipe them on his pants before reaching for the files. Rather than risk being interrupted while reading them, he pulled out the miniature camera. The detective had been looking at the investigations for the hotel fire and his office break in at the same time. Jack was less than enthused that the man had decided they were linked, but at least he could get all the information the police had in one go. 

He was still trying to re-lock the drawer when he heard footsteps approaching the detective’s door. Jack threw himself into a lazy sprawl in the chair back on the other side of the desk. 

“Still here?” the detective asked, clearly surprised. 

“You asked me to wait,” Jack said. “Not sure why. I can’t help you, and you aren’t going to help me with my insurance claim.” 

“We’ll have to talk about that another time. I have some other things I need to attend to right now. You plan to be in town for awhile yet, right?” 

When he answered affirmatively, the detective hurried him out of the police station as fast as he could.

* * *

He went back to his new hotel to develop the photos. He ended up copying the relevant information down while they were still dripping, unwilling to be late to meet Teddy back at Zook’s.

Katie was right. Teddy was irritated about the explosions-as-distractions.

“Bloody cowboys, each and every one of you Americans! All you were after was a little information from a podunk police station, and you start blowing stuff up! Are you _trying_ to bring the MPs down on our heads?!”

“Keep your voice down, Teddy. The pharmacy is still open,” Jack reminded him. It was too risky to wander by the explosion sites to admire his handiwork, so it amused him to see Grant getting all worked up. It felt good to _act_.

“At least tell me you got something useful,” Teddy demanded. Jack tossed him his notes from the photos. “Lithium bromide. I don’t know how the yokels down at the station figured that out, but it lines up. Drake was wearing a mix of isotopes, but the majority in the samples were tritium.”

“Not all of us work in atomic bombs, Teddy,” Jack said. He hated having to admit he didn’t follow, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to have the other man underestimate him a little. Teddy scowled at him.

“Tritium is a product of lithium irradiation. One of the projects Anthony’s group is working on involves producing and testing applications--and Anthony was accused of trying to remove some of their test results from the classified area a little while back.” Which meant that Teddy already had all he needed to approach Anthony alone, if he wanted. Instead he kept his word, returning to Zook’s for this exchange of information.

“So we have evidence linking him to both the fire and Drake’s death?” Jack asked, aiming for slightly uncertain.

“We do,” Teddy said. “Let’s roll up Anthony.”


	16. Chapter 16

Jack quickly found out why Teddy was so forthcoming. He was trying to manipulate Jack into taking care of all the problems. It wasn’t a surprise, but Jack had expected more from a man who broke cover by taking him hostage at gunpoint. Apparently Drake’s death had shaken him, forcing Teddy to act boldly. Now that his equilibrium was recovered, he went back to trying to manipulate things from the sidelines. It was a good strategy for an agent whose mission was to covertly steal information. Continuing to involve himself would only result in more exposure for Teddy. 

Unfortunately for him, Jack had little reason to ensure Teddy’s continued operations.

“Anthony is _your_ friend and coworker,” Jack said. “You can invite him somewhere private without raising any suspicion, and then we immediately confront him with the evidence we have against him.”

“You have your own in,” Teddy argued. “You don’t need me. Follow your original plan. Tell him you need to unload your whatsit; set up a buy. We can make a fake object and plant a tracker in it. That way, even if the mastermind doesn’t show up, we can follow Anthony back to them. Then you call in the cavalry. Together the authorities will have everything they need to deal with Hydra, without our further involvement.” 

“My cover is already blown,” Jack said. “Whoever is behind this, they left me a corpse--in a car I hotwired and drove to a secret meeting. We can’t assume they’ll take the bait if I offer it again. If we crack Anthony, we can turn him, and then we’re in control.” That would make a nice change. 

“And reveal everything we know in the process! They want what you supposedly have. Drake’s body is supposed to incite some foolishness on your part. Let’s make them think that it worked. If they don’t go for it, we can always try it your way.”

“Okay,” Jack sighed. It turned out that Teddy was just as stubborn as Carter. Maybe the British bred for it. “Let’s assume it goes to plan. What about that body? Do we just drive it to the station? ‘Here, have this frozen, radioactive corpse! Don’t worry; I was just saving it for you.’” If they followed Teddy’s plan, it meant turning over control of the mission to others. He wasn’t keen on being arrested as well. 

“We don’t have to do anything but leave it somewhere it won’t immediately be found. We’ll provide two sets of anonymous tips: the location of the body with the relevant photos from the fire investigation and the location and names of Anthony and company. I don’t want this to lead back to me, either.” 

Jack fell silent for a bit. Of course Teddy wanted to continue to lie low. It made him an effective mole, but Jack had never been trying to hide. It was ironic--a dead man, struggling to drag things into the light. 

“Alright,” he said finally, “but you have to move the body, and you have to do it tonight. If I bite the dust on this fake buy, I don’t want Katie to be compromised. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

“I can do that while you set things up,” Teddy agreed. “That must be why she likes you, mate. You only seem like a selfish bastard.”

“What’s that? I heard my name,” Katie said as she entered the storeroom.

“Nothing, Katie dear. Don’t worry, we haven’t got a bad thing to say about you,” Teddy said.

“This is still my shop, Teddy Grant, and I’ll worry about whatever I want,” Katie said, hands on her hips. “Starting with when you’re gonna haul your behind out of here. I know you two agreed to play nice, but nobody asked me. I’ll go get my shotgun if it’s necessary to move you along.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m going, and I’ll take that corpse with me. Although I’m starting to think the two of you suit each other. He’s been in the freezer for a day, but I doubt his heart’s as cold as yours.”

Katie glared at Teddy while he made good on on his word.

“We can meet somewhere else next time, if you prefer,” Jack said. “I didn’t know you disliked Teddy so much.”

“I liked him fine until he waltzed into my store, pulling things off the shelves like he owned the place. Besides, I thought you were probably done listening to him insist you do things his way.”

“I was,” Jack said slowly. “Could you hear out there after all?” 

“I just heard some disagreement, and I recognized that know-it-all tone in his voice. Store was empty, anyway.”

“Good. Uh, I need a favor.” She looked at him expectantly. “Can you get Moira out of her house tomorrow night and keep her away for a bit? Around the time Anthony gets home from work?”

“I could,” she said hesitantly. “It would probably be easier to just drug her. I still have the stuff you didn’t use on Teddy.”

“She would know something was up,” Jack said. “I think I’ll do better with Anthony if Moira’s not present and stays in the dark.” 

“I think I’d rather help you search another corpse--I found our frozen friend better company than I ever found her.”

“Katie, _please_.”

“You don’t want Moira around for what? Are you going to threaten him?”

“Maybe a little,” Jack said. Or a lot. He certainly wasn’t going to do things Teddy’s way.

“You’d probably do better if you charmed him. Played on his sense of self-importance.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know if he made that corpse or not,” Katie shrugged. “Either way, he’s got problems, and he knows it. It doesn’t seem like being another is the best way to get him on your side. He’s arrogant enough to believe he’s above dealing with them himself, so offer to help him out. If it doesn’t work, you can always fall back on intimidation.” 

_Be of use_. It made sense, even if it wouldn’t be as satisfying. Jack realized he had been falling back into the habit of reaching for the stick, probably because he didn’t know what kind of carrot to offer. He had to act soon, or Teddy might try to force the situation. He didn’t really have time to study Anthony the way he should.

He did have Katie. She knew the Vincents pretty well. She might be working with them--against _him_ \--but if that was true, he was already walking into a trap. Anthony and Hydra would know he was coming. He just didn’t see any other way forward.

“Do you know why Anthony married Moira?” he asked.

“I can guess. Marrying her wasn’t cheaper than paying a cook and a housecleaner, but it came with other benefits that can be quite pricey. It’s also pretty hard to get hired on at a government lab if you’re paying for your jelly roll. At some point even an expensive girl like her starts to look like a good deal.” 

“So you think he can be motivated by money?” 

“No, money’s only good for what it can get you. I think what Anthony probably wants can’t be bought: knowledge, respect.” This made sense to him, too. Peggy’s notes on Hydra indicated they were just as obsessed with knowledge as power.

“I suppose I can try it your way--and you’ll take care of Moira?” Katie sighed. 

“Yes, I’ll take care of her.”

* * *

The next evening, Jack waited in a borrowed car down the street from the Vincent’s house. He watched Moira leave and then waited a little while to make sure she wasn’t coming home. Then he wandered into their yard like he belonged there, going around the back of their house. There was no back door and the side door was too exposed to spend time picking, but the windows were unlocked. All that weight lifting helped as he hoisted himself onto the ledge and crawled in. 

Inside, he took a gander at their liquor cabinet, where he found a very nice Scotch. He grabbed the bottle and two glasses and sat in the dining room. He sipped slowly as the sun set and the house grew dim around him. 

Anthony came into the house totally focused on his mail, head down. Jack sighed. Grabbing this guy for interrogation would have been easy. At least he got to watch Anthony jump when he greeted him from the darkened dining room.

“Is that you, John? What are you doing in my house? Where’s Moira?”

“We have a problem, Anthony.” Jack looked on calmly as Anthony switched on the light and studied his face.

“Someone told me you weren’t really a businessman. I guess they were right.”

“Who told you? How did they know?” Was Katie informing on him after all?

Anthony pointedly ignored the first question. “It was your escape from the hotel, and how you cased the crowd afterward. Most people don’t hang around after they escape a burning building.” So he had given himself away by failing to live his cover completely in a public situation. Jack could handle that. It was just another disadvantage of working alone. He would have played the victim if someone else had been there to search for the target.

“And did this ‘someone’ know who I am?” Jack asked.

“Not enough data, we decided. So tell me, what’s it going to be, friend or foe? I’ll warn you now, you don’t want us as enemies.” Damn, Anthony was arrogant. He didn’t seem the least bit upset. Jack was looking forward to taking some of the wind out of his sails.

“That’s up you, Anthony. I want to help you out.”

“Good. All you have to do is give me the artifact,” Anthony said, sitting down across the table from Jack. What an amateur, coming right out and asking for what he wanted. “And, of course, tell me how it really came into your possession. You don’t have a mining operation, but your story is so accurate that you _must_ have access to an Obelisk.” Jack silently thanked Peggy for writing him such a good lie. 

“That’s not on the table, I’m afraid.”

“You’re wasting my time, then. That’s the only help I need.”

“Is it?” Jack asked. He took his packet of leverage out from the pocket inside his coat. He laid one photograph on the table in front of Anthony. It was a close up of Drake’s face and the hole in his forehead. 

“Drake is dead?” Anthony asked, trying to sound surprised. “What happened to him?” Like most bad liars, he was playing against his strengths. Anthony was never going to manage feigning ignorance when his eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Lies were much more believable when you stuck as close to the truth as possible. Peggy had obviously known this when she crafted the story for the 084, what Anthony referred to as the Obelisk. The truth was going to bring Anthony around to Jack’s side.

“As a doornail. You know what he did--and his team is not happy. It’s only a matter of time before they find those involved.”

“Good. That has nothing to do with me, so I don’t know why you’re sharing.”

“C’mon, Anthony, that’s not true.” Next Jack laid out a sheet summarizing the test results from the samples they took from Drake’s corpse. He gave that a moment to sink in. Anthony grew pale, but still tried to bluff.

“Tritium? Lithium? What is this supposed to prove?”

“Anthony, you’re too smart to play dumb,” Jack chided. “You know what this proves. You helped killed him.”

“I’m not the only one on that project, it--it could be any of us.” Denials like this could go on all night. Jack decided to take a little bit of a leap.

“It could, except you’re the only one who’s been acting suspicious. You’re the only one with a co-conspirator from a dangerous organization. That’s why Drake had to die. He made the connection.” Anthony seemed to deflate back into his chair with that.

“You know about Hydra.” That was a statement, not a question. _Bingo_. “It wasn’t my idea, you know. I didn’t even kill Drake. I just helped move the body, dumped it in some car.” Anthony was more in the dark than Jack expected, since he didn’t seem to know that car had been Jack’s.

“I believe you, Anthony. It’s not even your fault. I’m sure Hydra made an offer you couldn’t refuse.” Anthony gave a little bloodless laugh. 

“That they did. Knowledge has always been an unbearable temptation for me. Since you’re not here with the MPs to arrest me, what is it that you want? Money?”

“I told you, Anthony, I want to help you. You aren’t responsible for Drake’s death. I can get you out of this mess--if you help me take them down.” Jack could do what he promised, but that doesn’t mean he would.

“You’re not very good at this, whoever you are. Showing up here alone, unarmed and with almost no leverage. What’s to stop me from walking out that door and never coming back? I don’t need you or Hydra--there’s any number of countries that would take in a man with my knowledge.” Jack wasn’t unarmed, and he ached to prove it to this smug asshole. He took a deep breath instead.

“You could do that. You could leave your wife and your job and your archeology buddies and betray your country. Go live in some Communist country where you don’t know anyone, probably don’t even speak the language, and where they only want your knowledge. 

“I think you’d regret it, though. Why do you think the Soviets didn’t produce their own atomic bombs? It’s not because they’re stupid. They don’t have our money.” If there was one thing Jack had learned from his father, it was that money made the world go ‘round. “You work in a facility built practically _overnight_ , backed by American industry. All the brains in the world won’t do you any good if you defect somewhere without the cash to do anything with your ideas.

“Then there’s the fact that you’re in bed with Hydra. You were just telling me I’d regret making them my enemy. How do you think they’ll feel if you just walk away?”

“I invented the weapon that killed Drake,” Anthony said. “I think I can handle myself.” He was starting to look a little nervous.

“Maybe. Their reputation isn’t very forgiving, though. If I don’t take them down, are you going to enjoy looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life? Now you’re underfunded, alone in a strange country, and constantly on the lookout. Sounds like fun.” He said that sarcastically, but Jack was in that very situation, and it wasn’t all bad. He almost had Anthony. He waited just a moment before continuing. 

“Come on, you’ve done what no one else has managed to do. You’ve infiltrated the enemy. A smart guy like you knows Hydra’s not a good long term bet. Help me find them; tell me what I need to know. Take it from me, running changes nothing but your location. Your bad choices always follow you. All you can do is try and make better choices in the future.” 

Anthony sighed and reached for the scotch in the middle of the table. He poured himself a glass and took a sip. 

“You might have a point about Hydra not being an option long-term. What do I have to do?”

“Start with telling me everything,” Jack said.


	17. Chapter 17

Anthony refused to tell him everything. To be fair, he told Jack a lot. Jack had him start from the beginning--how he was contacted, the details of each meeting: date, time, place, purpose. Anthony had a very good memory, so he rattled these details off as fast as Jack could get them down. Jack wasn’t interested in how Anthony was recruited or why as much as the details that would help him find his target, but having all the information meant he could decide what was important--not Anthony.

Unfortunately, Anthony was smart enough to withhold the identity of person who killed Drake and the one who asked him to burn down Jack’s hotel. He seemed to hold no remorse for those actions--even though the hotel fire killed two people--and he didn’t have any idea that Moira had been there that same night. Anthony might not be naming them, but he inadvertently indicated that he had contact with just one person. In the process of the debrief, he also confessed to a rather long list of crimes. For names he wanted a signed statement, testifying to his cooperation and indicating his testimony in a trial would be dependent on receiving immunity. 

At least Anthony was arrogant enough to assume that Jack had the juice to make that happen for him. He didn’t ask who Jack was working for and apparently concluded that his rank must be equal to that of the late Charles Drake. Anthony couldn’t fathom a world where he was stuck dealing with a single man working completely unauthorized in the black. It worked in Jack’s favor, so he left Anthony’s assumptions intact. It was easy to draft what Anthony wanted. He remembered the look on Whitney Frost’s face when he delivered Vernon and the gamma canon to her. Anthony would pay for his crimes.

“Here you go,” Jack said, signing his statement _Chief Raymond Krzeminski_. “Now: what is the identity of your Hydra contact?”

“No way. I’ll arrange for you to meet them yourself. There’s no way you’re going to cut me out of this before it’s over.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Jack said.

“Let me worry about it. Now, we can’t be seen together again. Let’s talk about how I’m going to dead drop you the information about where to meet.”

Anthony insisted that they establish radio silence and communicate only through dead drops and signal codes. His enthusiasm was annoying, but if he was enjoying himself, it only meant he’d be likely to continue cooperating.

* * *

Jack barely had time in the morning to code a report and mail it before Anthony had set a time for the meet. It was scheduled for later that evening. He had expect it to take at least a couple days. He planned to call Carter as soon as it was a decent hour on west coast. Now he hesitated. They could be in New Mexico in eight hours or so if Stark was available to fly them or they could get on a military transport immediately. Even if they managed it, it still wouldn’t leave them enough time to rendezvous and decide on a plan. 

He could call them in anyway, and then they’d be there to help wrap everything up--unless the meet was cancelled or Anthony was screwing him over. Then they would be cooling their heels waiting for him to finish his damn job. Worse, they might take control of the mission all together. Since Jack Thompson was officially dead, Sousa technically outranked him. Peggy always did whatever she wanted regardless of what Jack said, even when he was her supervisor. 

It was better to hold off. He hadn’t actually uncovered the Hydra agent, and that meant he hadn’t completed his mission. It wasn’t his fault Drake had gone and gotten himself dead. As a security measure, he’d leave a copy of his coded report in his hotel room. The code was unbreakable without the sheet of the pad used for the code, which he burned. Only Peggy had the other copy of the code, so it should be secure enough. Otherwise, he was meeting Anthony--who was on his side--and one other person. Those were good odds.

They’d be even better if he recruited his only other option for backup: Teddy.

* * *

“You did what?” Teddy asked, dropping himself into the seat across from Jack’s desk. “Why am I not surprised? I suppose now you want me to back you up as you ride in on your white horse and try to arrest them yourself.”

“Got it in one! This is what you wanted, Teddy. Me, meeting up with Anthony and whoever has been running him.”

“Now Anthony knows almost everything we know. It’s not the same, and you’re absolutely nutters if you think I’m going to continue to involve myself.”

“That’s a fine way to treat someone. C’mon, Teddy, you hate Hydra. Let’s give them what they got coming to them!” Jack couldn’t help but smile. 

“Bloody cowboy. Nope. Terrible idea. Not going.”

“It’s not just about Hydra, either. You’ve been working with Anthony for how long? You socialize with him. Did you even suspect he was up to no good?”

“Well, no. I was worried more about keeping my own cover secure.”

“He’s not even trained, Teddy. Not like you and I--and he pulled the wool over all our eyes.” 

“My ego might be a little bruised, but I can live with that.” Teddy stood up as if to leave.

“If you don’t want to go, that leaves me with only one other option. I guess I can call in the MPs.” Jack had no intention of calling up the local military boys and trying to convince them he was on the level, only six hours before the meet. He made it sound good anyway.

“Don’t let’s be hasty,” Teddy said, turning back to him. “Are you trying to say if I do this, you won’t mention me to anyone else?”

“I can at least make sure you have enough time to get out of Dodge. Or I can make a phone call right now.”

“I just want to make sure we’re both clear on the terms of this agreement,” Teddy said slowly. “I back you up and you’ll let me get out of the country free and clear?”

“Or you can hang,” Jack nodded. “Unless you think you can get out in the twenty minutes it would take for the MPs to gear up and come arrest a traitor and a spy?” Teddy probably deserved to be arrested and tried, but Jack would settle for him out of the country and no longer stealing secrets. 

“What the hell,” Teddy sighed. “If you’re going in alone, there’s a decent chance you won’t be alive to turn me in. What’s the plan?”

* * *

Jack was still in his office, watching the clock, waiting to go to the meet. Anthony’s strict directions said an early arrival or attempts to case the meeting location would result in cancellation of the meet. He had to send Teddy to check things out in his place. Jack’s growing tension at the meeting approached was broken by a knock on the door. It was Katie.

“I haven’t seen you all day. How did it go with Anthony?” 

“Good. I’m headed out to meet with him in a minute.” Jack looked at the clock again. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“You were right. I followed your advice and it worked, and I got out of there before Moira came back. Thanks for your help.” From Katie’s frustrated sigh, Jack could tell that wasn’t why she came.

“Teddy tells me you’re about to do something stupid. Did it occur to you that I might like to know about it?” Jack thought about telling her how busy he’d been, coding long reports and making plans. If he was honest, he had been avoiding Katie. 

“It occurred to me you might try to talk me out of it.” She snorted.

“I’m not going to bother. I hope it works out, whatever you’re up to. If it doesn’t--” she was blinking now, although her voice was steady, “--I wanted to tell you, John Paxson, that you are entirely too much trouble for me, but I enjoyed every minute of it.” 

“So did I, Katie.” Jack still didn’t know if he erred in trusting her as much as he had. At the same time, he wished he’d told her everything. He reached for her and let their kiss say everything he couldn’t. 

The chiming of church bells in the distance broke them apart. Time was marching on. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” Katie just shook her head at him. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, trying to smile. Once Katie got into her car safely, Jack drove to meet Anthony.

It didn’t escape his notice that the address had been one of the warehouses he had pretended to rent for his cover. He turned his car around before parking it nearby, ensuring his choice of escape routes. The air carried a definite chill. He had only been here a little more than a month and it felt like winter was closing in. 

The light in front of the warehouse had been extinguished--cute--but a light was visible inside through the partially open door. Jack took a casual look around and saw nothing. He hoped Teddy was set up in a window in the building across the street, covering him like he was supposed to.

When Jack got close enough to see inside the door, all he saw was the inside of the warehouse. Orderly shelves of boxes, and no people at all.

“Hey, Anthony? Um. ‘The owl flies at midnight.’” The code phrase was stupid but Anthony insisted on having one to give the all clear. There was no response. 

He took another step forward, bringing him almost even with the door. He felt a tug against the bottom of his pant leg just as something moved just inside the doorway. Jack two quick steps back and reached for his sidearm as Anthony Vincent’s body landed at his feet. Cursing, Jack turned to run back to the car. 

Emily Copsmann was standing between him and his escape.


	18. Chapter 18

Emily was standing alone between Jack and the car. The little mouse he had first met was gone and she looked ready for anything in tailored trousers; her hair draped over one shoulder in a neat braid.

He was surprised to see her there. His thoughts flashed on the glimpse of her he had seen the night of the hotel fire. Apparently rather than waste energy trying to manipulate him directly, she had skipped straight to ransacking his office, burning down his hotel, and killing Drake. There had been a miscalculation somewhere along the way. Even the combination of the 084 as bait and his innocuous cover was not enough to draw her out of the shadows. Jack appreciated her need for action, but his blood ran cold at the smile that formed on her lips as she waited, watching him put everything together.

She was just one girl. Jack tried to remind himself that he’d eventually gotten the best of even women who were smarter than him. The outcomes flickered through his mind: Peggy Carter handcuffed to a table, Dottie Underwood knocked out on the floor, and Whitney Frost kneeling in the dust. 

He’d had help with all of them. Jack just hoped that Teddy was where he promised to be.

“Why’d you kill Anthony?” he asked. Emily smiled even more broadly.

“He has outlived his usefulness,” she said. She now had a soft European accent that hadn’t been present before. “I have all the data on his tritium project that I need and he brought you here to me. Do you object?” She took a step forward, tilting her head as if to study his face. 

“Not really.” One less traitor to worry about, as far as Jack was concerned. “Although if you wanted to see me, darlin’, all you had to do was ask.” 

“I did ask you for something. You offered me money instead. It was an insult.” Emily moved forward another step. Jack forced himself to hold his ground.

“When I made that offer, I was trying to help a girl. I certainly wasn’t trying to insult Hydra. How can I make this right?” Something flashed in her eyes, like an old hurt.

“There is no making it right for Hydra, not after what the Allies did to us. As for me, I’d like to know. Are you going to be of use? Or do I need to kill you too?” That was enough confirmation for him. He took off his hat, placing it over his chest.

“I live to serve, ma’am.” He waited. That was the signal, but nothing happened. 

“I guess we’ll see about that,” she said. “This street is no place to hold a conversation, so we’re going somewhere more comfortable. You look a little worried. Don’t. I already got your friend; he’s coming too.”

“My what?” Jack asked, fighting the rising panic. Should he hit her? She was close enough. She also appeared unarmed, although one hand was in a pocket. Still, she wasn’t _threatening_ him. 

“Your friend. Tall fellow from the lab? _Utter wanker_?” Her British accent was a perfect imitation of Teddy. 

“Great,” he said faintly. He should do something. She had Teddy, but how much did he owe a KGB spy? He only coerced Teddy into backing him up tonight. _Shit_. Maybe he could talk his way out of this. “Uh, lead the way.”

“Silly man,” she said. “I’m not taking you anywhere _conscious_.” Her arm lashed out, something black and square in it. He tried to spring backwards and was still moving when a buzz sounded and all his muscles seized painfully.

Everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, Jack was face down on something cold and everything ached. He went to press himself up. His hands slipped over rounded metal ridges and he couldn’t see anything. He pulled his arms up and slid his hands around. He was lying on some sort of metal grate. There were smooth bars next to him and in front of him. His sleeve dagger and holster were gone. 

He was in a cage in the dark. Jack had found his Hydra agent but instead of acting, he had hesitated. It wasn’t the first time he had frozen. He thought he was ready; he had gone into the meeting tonight ready to do what needed to be done. Then his inside man was dead, his back-up captured--probably also dead by now--and the villainous Hydra agent holding him captive had no qualms about killing.

How did a person know the right path to walk when obstacles were everywhere? Now he was cut off at the knees. 

Pretending to help Whitney Frost was one thing. She had goals and he offered to help her accomplish them. He wasn’t sure he could talk around a woman who was keeping him in a cage. Jack had no idea what Emily’s goals included, other than obtaining an 084 that he didn’t have. What worked for Whitney and Vernon was manipulating them with the truth. If he tried that here, he’d have to tell Emily he didn’t have the 804, but he could help her get it. Only he had no idea what he’d be bringing down on the SSR. It was one thing to set enemies against each other and another to sic one on your agency and country.

If he didn’t think of something he was going to die here, in the dark, an utter failure at his last job. Jack wondered if his body would still be here when Carter got around to kicking Emily’s door down. It would be better than getting dumped somewhere in the desert, where only the buzzards would find him. 

His stomach lurched. He thrashed himself upright, putting his hands over his head so he wouldn’t conk it on the cage in the dark. The cage swayed with his motions. It must be suspended--

“Stop thrashing! You’re making me seasick.”

“Teddy?” Jack reached his hands out. His fingers touched warm fabric.

“That’s my knee you’re feeling up. Stop moving, or you’re going to be listening to me vomit.” Jack snatched his hand back, forcing himself still while he thought. He wasn’t alone. He might still have other resources. He started inventorying his clothes. Everything was disheveled, like he had been searched, but he was still wearing his shoes--and his belt. He wasn’t alone and he had a hotwire concealed in his belt. _I can get out of here._

“How did you get caught?” Jack asked. “I thought you were going to get under cover and stay there.” 

“Oh, sure. I went over to case the meeting spot and who should appear but my perfectly innocent co-worker Emily. I went over to talk to her and try to get her to leave. The real question here is why you didn’t tell me she’d been buzzing around this mess. I suspect the answer is because you’re a right wanker.”

“Or I didn’t want to leave a potentially innocent woman at the mercy of a Soviet spy,” Jack said.

“Aw, that’s very sweet.” Emily’s voice was accompanied by a light shining down on them. Jack screwed his eyes tight against the sudden and painful brightness, although his assumptions were right. They were in a cage about six feet on a side, blackness surrounding them. “I appreciate you looking out for me, John. And Theodore, I’m so glad I didn’t kill you right away. Do you think the KGB would pay me to release you?”

“I doubt it, love. Let’s skip the foreplay; you can just shoot me now. ”

“What are you doing?” Jack hissed as he tried to open his eyes again. He squinted in the direction of the floor. It was maybe twenty feet down. He could work with that. Emily was standing on a catwalk of some sort above and to their right. It trailed off into the darkness on either side of the cage. He couldn’t really see much else, his eyes were still adjusting.

“I’ve been here before, mate. I’d rather be dead than go through the hell I suffered the first time at the hands of Hydra.”

“Don’t worry, Teddy! We’re not going to skip straight to torture. We don’t have to go there at all if John tells me where to find the Obelisk," Emily said.

“I don’t feel very cooperative right now, darlin’. Get us out of this cage, let Teddy go, and we can talk,” Jack said. 

“You said you live to serve, but that’s not very helpful. I think I’ll just come back later. I bet you’ll be feeling more cooperative after a few hours without food and water.” The light went out, and they heard footsteps disappearing in the distance.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t know she was listening when I blew your cover there. Think she’s still listening?” 

“I have no doubt at all.”

“I guess I should apologize for getting you into this mess.” As he spoke, Jack reached out grab Teddy’s arm. He tried to flinch away from the touch, but Jack got his hand around Teddy’s wrist and pulled his hand toward him. He held it until Teddy relaxed. 

“If I accept, will you shut up and let me contemplate my doom in peace?” Teddy asked. 

“Sorry,” Jack said. Then he started to tap out a message in Morse, using his finger on Teddy’s palm. 

I C-U-T B-A-R-S

Teddy hesitated. Jack went to repeat the message, but apparently it had been clear enough. Teddy flipped their hands over and wrote a message of his own. 

N-O W-A-I-T W-A-T-_____-E-A-R-N

It was hard to “read” the message, but Jack could fill in the gaps. He was pretty sure the last two words were _watch_ and _learn_. It made sense. They could get out of the cage but then what? Fumble around in the dark? An escape was more likely to be successful if they managed to learn more about their prison before attempting it. 

L-A-T-E-R he signaled. 

Y-E-S came Teddy’s reply.

T-O-R-T-U-R-E Teddy had claimed to fear it, but waiting made it much more likely. 

W-A-I-T came again. Okay. Jack wasn’t sure how much it would be worth it to wait if Emily started torturing either one of them. They had to still be in good enough shape to fight their way out, if needed. Teddy was probably aware of that. Jack just hoped that the man would be willing to act when the time came. 

He was a captive with only a KGB spy as an ally. To say he had made an error was an understatement, but hopefully he’d have time to dwell on that later. With a little luck, they would both make it out of here. 

Jack wedged himself into the corner of the cage and tried to rest. There was nothing to do right now but conserve energy. Teddy must have been doing something similar, as he wasn’t moving and had adopted a pattern of deep breathing. Jack found his breathing syncing with Teddy’s pattern. It was calming. Together in the darkness, they waited.


	19. Chapter 19

The lights went on again with no warning. It had been long enough that Jack had somehow fallen asleep. Blinking rapidly, he saw Emily operating a switch box of some sort. The cage started to rise toward the catwalk. 

“Theodore, please step back against the back of the cage and cuff yourself to the bars. John, you can step up to the door,” Emily said. Jack hadn’t noticed when the lights were on before, but there were two pairs of handcuffs swinging from the bars opposite the door of the cage. He stood and did as she asked, but Teddy pressed up to the door too. 

“Why does he get to be first?” Teddy asked. “It feels like you’re playing favorites.” Emily rolled her eyes at him. A gigantic monster of a man loomed out of the dark behind her. 

“Move back, Teddy, or I’ll have to shock you again.” Eying her goon, Teddy did as she asked. “John, stick your hands between the bars, through the same opening, please.” Jack was rewarded with his own handcuffs. Emily unlocked the door of the cage and stepped back to his right, her goon stepping forward on the left, training a gun on him. The catwalk was open on the side nearest the cage. Jack took a careful step onto it, reaching for the safety railing that ran along the far side. 

He let the goon drag him along the catwalk while Emily re-locked the cage behind him. The catwalk ran all the way to the wall, where stairs led them to the floor. The light was very dim on the floor, and Jack only saw great hulking outlines of machinery in the room where the cage was hung. Then he was pushed into a bright but barren hallway. It was lined on both sides with doors, all closed. There were no windows that he could see but it must be daytime now. He could hear the hum of tires on pavement in front of them. At least they were near a well-trafficked road. 

The goon manhandled him into a room that looked mostly like a normal office space. It had a couple of desks, chairs. One of the chairs was bolted to the floor and had thick straps on the arms and legs. It was not the kind of thing Jack liked to see.

He was mostly strapped in by the time Emily reappeared. Once he was secured, the goon left the room and Emily settled in another chair to study him. She didn’t speak.

The silent treatment was a good interrogation technique when your subject had reason to be nervous or when you didn’t have enough knowledge to start something more proactive. Faced with the uncertainty of what would happen next, most prisoners would eventually start talking and reveal something. Ignoring the uncomfortable silence was the most effective counter, but he wouldn’t learn anything by staying silent. Jack made a mental list of topics he wanted to avoid. The first on the list was Katie. He was dying to ask if she was working for Emily, but mentioning Katie would only reveal how important she was to him. Teddy was a similar thorny subject. He didn’t want Teddy tortured because Emily got the idea it might break Jack. When he had his thoughts in order he gave Emily what she wanted and broke their silent stalemate. 

“Do you even have a brother?” 

“No, but Emily Copsmann had brothers and a tidy American ID. She never really appreciated either, because she died when she was an infant.” As Jack suspected, her entire identity was stolen.

“How did you know Teddy was with me?”

“When he started trying to get me to leave our meeting spot, he was very obvious. He’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is.”

“He must be pretty sneaky. He’s been hiding in plain sight at the lab for years, just like you. You didn’t have any idea?”

“I focus on my goals. Other people only interest me when they can do something for me. You said you’d help me. I suggest you get around to explaining how you intend to do so, and it ought to feature a specific object.”

“That sounds pretty lonely,” Jack said, ignoring the unspoken threat. “I would think you’d enjoy my company. What is the point of accomplishing anything, if you’re alone in the dark?”

“The Allies killed or imprisoned every confederate I had,” Emily said. “Hydra is gone and I carry on my work for those who cannot. You are a poor substitute for those who died for our cause. Don’t speak to me about loneliness. You have no idea what it’s like to shoulder such a burden without a true companion. ”

“You’d be surprised,” Jack said. He and Emily were both ghosts, in a way. At least he managed to confirm that she was working alone, except for the muscle. “You don’t have to carry it alone.” 

“Go on.”

“You want the Obelisk. I can get it for you,” Jack bluffed. He didn’t have to do it. He didn’t have to do anything, but learn and wait for the right opportunity to escape. 

“In return, I suppose you still want me to release Teddy.”

“I want you to release him and I want you to tell me what the damn thing does. Before I give it to you,” Jack said. No use pretending he was being altruistic, she wouldn’t buy it. “I can’t imagine what you want it for."

Emily started to respond, but was interrupted when the door flew open. The goon from before came striding in. 

He was dragging Katie behind him.

Jack’s brain stuttered. Did they kidnap Katie? Was she working with Emily after all? She looked just as neat and tidy as always, despite the gorilla twice her size dragging her around. She avoided making eye contact with him. 

“This dame tripped the alarms,” the goon growled.

“Is she alone?” Emily asked. The goon shrugged. “You didn’t think to check? It would be nearly impossible for her to find us by herself. Hurry, we need to lock them up and check the perimeter.”

* * *

They were shoved into the cage so fast that Teddy was left shouting after Emily.

“I’d much rather you kill me than leave me in here with the lovebirds! Oy!”

As soon as Emily and her man hurried away, Katie started unbraiding her hair

“Okay, what the hell?” Jack said. 

“It’s nice to see you, too.” From her hair she unraveled a handcuff key. She handed it to Teddy, who promptly started unlocking himself from where he was still handcuffed to the cage. “We’ve got about ten minutes to figure out how to get out of here before your friends start on the distraction. I wasn’t planning on a cage.” Her fingers kept picking through her hair until she produced a small, short bladed knife, which she slipped into Jack’s pocket. 

“That’s it?” Teddy asked. “No gun or lockpicks or anything?”

“The picks kept working their way out of my braids, they were too small. The cretin that found me, took my gun,” Katie said. “We expected that anyway.”

“I’ve got it,” Jack said, working his belt off as soon as Teddy had unlocked his handcuffs. “Stand back, both of you.” 

“Bloody hell!” Teddy said when Jack ignited the hotwire. “Is that any good as a weapon?”

“Only if your enemy stands still, or you don’t mind getting burned yourself,” Jack said. He started to cut open the locking mechanism on the cage. “What distraction, Katie? What friends?” 

“Peggy is quite a looker, _Jack_ ,” Katie said. “I might be jealous, if she wasn’t so clearly in love with that Daniel fellow.” 

“Oh, you called--” he broke off. Teddy was listening intently. He didn’t need to know who had come to Jack’s rescue, or why. It was enough that they came, and Katie was helping them. “Why did they send you in? Didn’t they have anyone else?” 

“We figured I’d be the least threatening. I might be expected to turn up looking for you, and more likely to be put with you than kept separately. It worked, so don’t fuss.”

“Here,” Jack said, pushing the cage door open. “Teddy and I can lower you--” The look that Katie gave him quelled his suggestion. She kicked her shoes off, letting them fall below the cage before she turned and grabbed the bottom lintel of the cage opening. The cage swung a little when she dropped her legs and hung from it by just her arms. Then she let go, landing in a neat crouch on the floor. 

Teddy all but shouldered him out of the way in his hurry to get out of the cage, probably because it was still swinging. Jack followed. Hanging from the cage meant he dropped less than fourteen feet, but the impact of the concrete still sent pains shooting up his legs. Katie motioned them to stay down and wait. Emily had left the lights on the catwalk, but the first floor was still dimly lit and machinery rose around them, casting deeper shadows. 

“When did you call them? I know I haven’t been gone three days yet,” Jack said. 

“As soon as I got back to the pharmacy after leaving your office,” Katie said. “I was followed. Since I was pretty sure you were doing something stupid, I decided not to wait.”

“You went back to the store when you were followed?! I told you to go to the police station.”

Katie’s reply was lost in the sound of an explosion. It came from what Jack had decided was the back of the building, opposite from where he heard the road. Peggy must have been in charge of the distraction. 

“Let’s go,” Katie said. They started heading for the front, where Jack had been earlier. They were still trying to pick their way around the equipment on the floor when Emily and her man came in the back. In a moment, they’d be seen.

“Go!” Jack hissed. “Both of you get out!” He turned and headed back the way they had come, heading deeper into the dark maze of equipment and making noise as he went. 

“Get him!” Emily shouted. “We need him to get out of here!” 

Jack ran.


	20. Chapter 20

Jack ran, but despite the gloom, he never managed to get out of Emily’s sight. Weaving around machinery slowed him down even as it trapped the larger goon. Being smaller, Emily dodged and ducked through things Jack couldn’t. It was only a matter of time that he heard her right behind him.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot.” He didn’t stop. A shot pinged off the machine to one side of him. “Next one’s for your head!” 

He ducked under another piece of machinery only to come upon the back door. He threw himself at it, but it was locked and Emily was right behind him. He was trapped. At least Emily hadn’t shot him yet, and Katie should be away and safe now. Jack turned around, putting his hands up. Maybe he could stall. He took a deep breath and looked past Emily’s gun, to her face.

“Emily. You seem pretty smart. You have to know you’re in a no-win situation here. The cavalry has come. I’m sure they have the place surrounded. You’re probably looking at the full might of the Strategic Scientific Reserve--the same organization that took down all your comrades.” 

“And they’ll let me walk right by them if I’m using you for a shield. Let’s go. Head back for the front.” He started to move slowly, just to keep her happy. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. If Drake’s men are out there with mine, they are probably looking for a little payback. They also have no reason to like me. A tense situation, lots of guys with guns to deflect responsibility. Are you sure you want to test it?” 

“I don’t have any other way out of here,” she said. “I guess if that’s true, we’ll die together. There’s worse ways to go.” Like bleeding out on a hotel room floor, wondering if anyone would care when your body was discovered. Jack hadn’t actually died, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to get control now. 

“Okay, let’s say we get out of here,” he said patiently. “Then what?” 

“Shut up. Keep moving.” They were moving, if slowly, and were passing under the catwalk and cage again.

“We’ll be on the run, that’s what. You can keep me hostage for cover, I guess. Kill me the minute I become inconvenient. That’s fine. It would be over for me then--being dead means everything stops. I won’t have to deal with uncertainty any longer, but you will have nothing else. What are you going to do? Where are you going to go? The Soviets won’t take you in, they hate Hydra just as much as we do. The Allies have laid low anyone who might have helped you.”

“Just get the point already,” Emily said. Jack turned to face her. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Teddy on the catwalk above. He gave an abbreviated shake of his head, hoping the man would understand. He didn’t dare look up and give him away.

“You can turn yourself in,” Jack said softly. “Trust me, I know a no-win situation when I see one. Turn yourself in and then it’s over. You could rest. No more trying to live up to the ghosts of the past. No more running.” 

“That simple?” Emily laughed bitterly. “The things I’ve done. Murder and arson are just the beginning. I’d be lucky if they executed me on American soil after a stay in a mostly humane prison. If I’m extradited--”

“We can work it out,” Jack said. “A full confession in trade for life in prison. No extradition. We might even give you some of our thornier scientific problems to work on. Deals have been made before.” Emily lowered her gun. 

“I--” 

A shot rang out. As Jack watched, Emily slumped to the floor. He looked up at Teddy on the catwalk.

“Why didn’t you wait?!? I could have talked her around.”

“That’s exactly why, mate. I didn’t come here on a capture mission. You heard her. Hydra doesn’t deserve to live. You can’t tell me you’ve never made the same decision.” _And every time I’ve regretted it_ , Jack thought. He might still make that decision, if he had a way to take Teddy out. It was pointless to speculate. He was unarmed and Teddy had the high ground, still on the catwalk. 

“You need to leave,” Jack said. “Get out of the country and go now. Your days of spying in America are done.”

“What’s to stop me from shooting you too?” Teddy asked, raising his weapon. “It’s a good story to tell the people outside. SSR, are you? ‘Oh, so sorry, that Hydra bitch shot him before I could get there. I got her in the end.’”

“I left a coded report in my office, Teddy. It details everything, including your involvement with the KGB. My team has probably already read it. There’s no pretending you’re a friendly anymore. If you go now, we won’t come after you. If you shoot me, you better be prepared to run and hide the rest of your life.”

“You’ll let me leave, just like that?” Teddy asked.

“I told you I would if you helped me,” Jack said. He looked down and Emily’s body. “Which you did, even if I don’t like how.”

“That I did,” Teddy said, lowering his gun. “Bloody cowboy. I’ll admit I’ll be glad to see the last of this town. Give Katie a kiss for me.” He turned and headed for the stairs. 

Jack was still with Emily’s body when the SSR finally started clearing the building.

* * *

Carter and Sousa were less than thrilled when he asked them to drop the search for Teddy.

“He injured two men escaping our dragnet around the warehouse, Jack,” Daniel said. 

“Yeah and Teddy _could_ have killed them easily. He could have killed me. He didn’t, because we had an agreement. I’m sure you’ve been forced to make and abide by similar agreements in the past.” Jack looked at Peggy, whose lips pressed into a thin line.

“Not with KGB,” she said. “Not with traitors.”

“Make a liar out of me, if you must,” Jack said, “but you sent me alone on this mission; you obviously trust my judgement. I think he’d be more trouble than he’s worth. We can burn him in the United States and he won’t be able to cause any more trouble.”

“We sent you because we didn’t have anyone else--” Sousa started. 

“--with your experience,” Peggy interrupted. “The mission was accomplished and we probably have enough to clean up here already without adding a fruitless manhunt to it.” Something passed between her and Sousa. Jack just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. No need to poke the bear if he was getting what he wanted.

“So how did you find me?” Jack asked, watching as three men wrestled Emily’s goon into the back of a car. 

“We found Anthony Vincent’s car,” Daniel said. “It had a pretty interesting log in it. All his meetings with Emily, the projects they worked on together.”

“It was coded, but easy to break. It pretty much matches the account from your write-up,” Peggy said. “With the addition of a couple addresses. Here, Emily’s apartment, another warehouse. Katie somehow knew you’d be here.”

“How much did you tell her, anyway?” Daniel asked. “This was _supposed_ to be deep cover, Thompson. I would think even you would be able to remember that.”

“You’re probably learning this the hard way, Sousa--women know things even when you don’t tell ‘em,” Jack said dryly. Sousa went a little red and after a glance from Peggy, held his peace. “Of course I didn’t tell her anything that would compromise operational security. Chalk it up to local knowledge.” 

“I like her,” Peggy said. “It seems like you had a pretty good time here in New Mexico. I wouldn’t blame you, if you weren’t ready to come home.” There was a gentle inquiry there. Jack rolled that idea around in his head before responding.

“I actually think I’ve had just enough of this damn desert. And you feel that chill in the air?”

“Frigid,” Peggy agreed. “There will be snow on the mountains soon.”

“We can have you back on a California beach in 36 hours,” Daniel said. “Not for too long, because you’re not foisting all the paperwork on us, but for a little while. Transport leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

“After that, we can even return you to the land of the living,” Peggy said. 

“The M. Carter business is over already?” Jack asked, surprised.

“Not over,” Peggy said.

“Some things have been resolved,” Sousa said. “Your shooter is in custody and we can declare you not-dead, if you want.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said slowly. He wasn’t too keen on announcing he was not dead to his family. If he was honest, Gam-Gam was the only one he really missed. So far, the benefits had outweighed the drawbacks of being dead. “Maybe not yet. We might need someone in the black.”

“Now that you mention it--” Peggy said.

“Don’t start, Carter. I think I’ve earned myself a little R&R first,” Jack said.

“No decisions need to be made tonight, that’s for sure,” Daniel said. “Think about it. You have time.”

“Good. I’m going to take Katie home now,” Jack said. “See you kids for our flight tomorrow.”

* * *

After weeks undercover and the events of the previous evening, Jack could have slept for a week. Katie had other ideas. Despite it being Sunday morning again, they did not involve attending church. Jack had to admit he didn’t mind. After all, he wasn’t actually dead. Katie made him prove it.

Multiple times.

Afterward she settled into his arms, seemly content. It made him crazy. Women and spies were both ruthless when using silence to loosen tongues. 

“You’re really not going to ask any questions?” he said finally.

“I put most of it together myself. You were looking for someone; you found them. I already knew they were dangerous thanks to that corpse you stored in my freezer. Peggy and Daniel said that you were all with the SSR. They were pretty worried about you. It didn’t take much to convince them you were in trouble. A bad habit of yours, I take it?”

“More like they were worried the mission was going FUBAR,” Jack said, ignoring the warmth he felt at Katie’s words. “Did Peggy and Sousa give you a hard time?” 

“Well, apparently _someone_ had told them I might be a spy, so they were a little suspicious when they showed up at the pharmacy.” She pinched his side. “They questioned me and Peggy insisted on searching me. Thoroughly.”

“I’m sorry I missed _that_ ,” Jack said. Katie laughed. He didn’t know how to tell her how glad he was his suspicions were wrong. “What happened after I split up from you and Teddy?”

“We went outside. He grabbed a firearm from someone and started shouting about how the whole place was booby trapped and everyone should stay back. Then he ran back inside alone. Most of the men seemed to think I was overwrought when I tried to tell them Teddy was lying and you needed help.”

“Peggy listened?”

“Daniel did, but they were still walking into a mostly dark building. He sent teams in and described for me how they would sweep and how it took time. Then he got someone taking my statement, telling me it might help me remember something useful. It was just a distraction, but it worked.”

“Caught that trick, did you? Can you blame me for thinking you were a spy, when you’re so good at this?” 

“Peggy said something similar,” she mused. “Offered me a job. I told her it was too much trouble.”

“Are you sure?” Jack said. “Seems like you don’t mind it much.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea, but Katie would be good at it.

“A little now and then livens things up, but everyone has their limits. I think the uncertainty would get to me. And did I hear someone say that you faked your own death?”

“Yeah,” Jack winced. “It’s a long story. It might seem strange, but it’s actually working out pretty well.” He was relaxed, for one thing. No worrying about how to make his mission report sound better or how to leverage it into better assignments. As far as his service record went, it didn’t even exist. 

“Takes all kinds,” Katie said. “I don’t think it would suit me. I like my shop and my town.” 

“Any regrets?” he asked.

“Not shooting Teddy,” Katie replied without hesitation. “Do you think he’s really gone?”

“He better be,” Jack said. “You see him again, feel free to shoot him.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Are you going back to California?” Katie asked. “I can’t really picture you there.”

“It’s just for now,” Jack said. “Work is--a bit unpredictable at the moment. Are you thinking about coming to visit?”

“I don’t know,” Katie said. “It might be too like trying to capture a moment that’s passed.” Jack knew what she meant. They lay together as if in a delicate bubble, and the fragile barrier between them and the real world was swiftly dissolving in the morning light. When it was gone, there would be nothing to do but move on. 

It was still more than any dead man deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to share your thoughts about the parts you didn't like as well as those you did. 
> 
> Thanks very much for reading! Jack appreciates it that someone cares about him :)

**Author's Note:**

> This work was much improved by my betas: [lillianfromaccounting](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianfromaccounting/pseuds/lillianfromaccounting) for grammar and punctuation and [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for character, plot, historical accuracy, and constant "What about THIS?" questions.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  [Suggested Reading Order for my canon compliant post S2 fics](http://katiekeysburg.tumblr.com/post/162241330814/ever-wonder-what-order-my-post-season-2-agent)
> 
> When I decided not to make this M rated, [this Jack/Dottie smutfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8254565) happened. Mind the tags.  
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> If you've enjoyed this work, please consider [my NoSSR!AU featuring JackDaniels.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6602182) A love story in which Jack is a poet with daddy issues and Daniel is a librarian with lingering pain from his injury. Rated M.


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